


Escape, Love, Betrayal

by TootsMcgee



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TootsMcgee/pseuds/TootsMcgee
Summary: The past of my DND necromancer Cal
Comments: 5





	1. 1

“Hey choir boy, go get some water for us!” 

Cal shrank at the sharp voice of the choir conducter and immediately scurried off of his little pew where he'd been reading the prayer book for tonight. He kept his head down and mumbled a quick “Yes madame, right away.” before he dissapeared down the corridor of the underground cathedral. 

Collecting a tray of glass jugs from a sideroom, he carried it to the watering hole across the large cathedral's square. He didn't look around, keeping his focus on the tray of softly clattering glass in his hands. The watering hole was the only place in the city that had running water, the pipelines in the rest of the city were deemed unsafe and were broken in most places, and their repair had been forgotten due to the squabbling over who was in charge of the city. Squabbling in Drow society was however far less sophisticated than it sounded, ranging from cursing a family to outright murdering them. Cal had stopped keeping track of who was in charge this week, he didn't care. They were all as bad as the one before, or worse than the ones after, so what did it matter? 

He arrived at the queue for the watering hole, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for his turn. The morning queue was long with people who needed water to wash, cook and drink. Some guards were posted, but they were as likely to pick at and mock him as the other people waiting in line. Choir boy, that's all he was here, and he wasn't even part of the choir, just their servant. Their errand boy. Thankfully, he seemed to be going unnoticed today. He quickly filled up the jugs and carried them back to the cathedral, where the choir was still practicing. After carefully placing the tray on the table with a respectful bow to the conducter, he retreated back to his pew and picked up his book once more. 

He risked a glance in the direction of the conducter, but she didn't even look at him. A sigh of relief escaped him, and he settled into the uncomfortable wooden pew to memorize tonights schedule. His only real job was to prepare the incense burners, and assist the members of the choir should they require so, but he never knew when the conducter would decide to question him about it, demanding as she was. 

Focusing once more on his prayer book, Cal could barely bring himself to read the horrid prayers to Lolth, the spider goddess that ruled the Drow people by inciting murder of their kin to rise higher into society. Cal had seen many a night where the attendants of the mass would turn on eachother, families torn apart by the lust for power, sanctioned by the words of the priestesses, narrated by the ominous chanting of the choir. 

He despised it. 

The bloodshed, the betrayal, the constant tension in the cathedral during those masses. Very rarely a night went by without incident, and Cal had learned how to hide during those incidents. He knew how to blend with the shadows, utilizing his natural affinity for them and watching silently as siblings, partners, family and friends tore eachother apart to earn their goddess's favour. It was all for power, one week of absolute power before the next family came along and murdered you, one week before Cal would have to scrub the blood off the dark marble floors again. 

His stomach twisted itself into a knot thinking about the slaughter of the mass the previous week. The fights were ruthless, often indiscriminatory of whomever got in the way. By the skin of his teeth, Cal had managed to slip a young boy out of the chaos, dodging shadowy blades and sharp shadows until they reached safety. It hadn't been the first time something like this had occurred, but every time, it weighed heavier on him, being unable to help as a mere child had to watch their family perish in the name of Lolth. 

Practice concluded and Cal cleaned up after the choir after they had left, setting down the incense burners for tonight before he headed home. Mass wouldn't begin until nightfall, so he had a day to spend yet. 

He lived in a communal home of low ranking Drow, with one Matron in charge. He shared a room with his brother, Fredikar, who worked at the library. Cal made sure the room was clean enough to pass the Matron's daily inspection, then dug into the breakfast Fredikar had left for him.  
Black truffles, moss filled snails, deep mushrooms topped with Rothe cheese and a cup of dark red wine, imported from the surface. Or well, smuggled. Fred and he had a little connection with the Drow who traded with surfacers, occasionally providing them with little bonuses for their patronage. Still, they often went hungry, so this rare treat of a full breakfast was more than welcome. 

As he ate, he read the latest book he'd aquired this way, an adventurer's tale about Drizzt, the only Drow to ever make name for himself topside. It wasn't filled with the degrading nonsense a book from a Drow author would have, since everyone in The Underdark was unanimously in agreement that Drizzt was a traitor and a pathetic creature. No, this was written by a human woman, and her story praised his bravery to break the mould despite the trials he faced topside. 

'Sometimes, one must do what is right, rather than that which was taught.' 

“Little brother!”

Cal sat upright at his brother's cheery, slightly teasing voice, turning around on his chair and giving him a vague smile as a greeting.  
“Hey Fred.”  
“You're back already?”  
“Yes, Layne didn't fry me alive for once. What are you doing here?” Cal asked.  
“A wall of the library collapsed. They closed down while the repairs are being made.” Fred shrugged and flopped down on his bed. Cal hummed in acknowledgement, but his attention was already back with the story in his book. He'd read multiple stories about Drizzt but each was different in their own way, most focused on the predjudices he faced on the surface, but some were about the adventures he had while trying to protect and do good. Those books were the one bright light in Cal's life, a spark of hope that one day he could escape the horrid ways of his people and lead his own life, away from here. 

“Cal.”  
“Hm?” Cal grunted in disturbance, unprepared for the large hand on his arm, pulling him up roughly and tearing him away from the table. He was manhandled to the wall and a hard slap on his cheek rendered him dizzy, his legs struggling to keep him on his feet. A flash of white hair and a brown robe in the corner of his eye.

“Reading those worthless books again, were you?” 

Matron Yala's voice, icy and calm, terrifying in it's calculated furiousness. She paced over to the table and grabbed the book, throwing it in the fireplace. Cal repressed an angry growl and clenched his jaw, the heat on his cheek throbbing. He bared his teeth in a silent protest, but said nothing.

“I don't know where you keep getting these, boy.” Yala growled. “But if I catch you reading one again...” she cracked her knuckles. Matron Yala was a large, strong woman, grown fat on the riches of her families' success. Cal couldn't match her physically. His malnutritioned body was barely strong enough to withstand the force of her next slap, on the other cheek. He refused to groan, refused to show pain. Weakness.  
“Let it be a lesson to you.” Yala snapped, diving towards him as if she were about to grapple him and Cal hated that he flinched, hated the power she had over him. She chuckled, a cold, cruel sound, the fire panging while it consumed the book. 

Cal stood there even after Yala left, shaking, trembling not with fear but with fury. His fingers were shaking too hard to grab the poker, to try and frantically salvage what was left of the book. He could barely hear Fred's voice over the beep in his ears.  
“Cal.” Fred kneeled down with him at the fireplace, taking over from him with gentle hands. “Cal, easy. You're doing it again.”  
“It isn't fair, Fred.” Cal said, his voice merely the ghost of a furious whisper.  
“I know, I know.” Fred hushed him, taking his hands and squeezing them. Cal looked down and saw they were radiating darkness, power begging to be used, only he didn't know how. He looked up again, seeing his brother's blue eyes peer intensely at him. 

Fred understood, he was trained as a wizard, he knew what those powers were, and had taught Cal a little, but not enough to be dangerous. Cal knew it was to protect him. He knew, but he despised it all the same. Why shouldn't he tear this whole place apart? It was what it deserved. 

“Cal.” Fred's voice grew more insistant and Cal took a deep breath, the glow slowly dissapearing from his hands. He had to remember it wasn't just about him. Fred was all he had left from his former life, a happy family they'd had in a very distant past. He had to protect him, too. Protect their memory.  
“You alright?”  
“Yes.” Cal mumbled involuntarily. Fred sighed and stroked the hair from Cal's hurt face.  
“Come on, let me help you with that. Don't want it to bruise.” Fred said quietly as he sat Cal down on the bed. Fred's magic worked quickly, and after he was done Cal felt merely a ghost of the pain, but no one would never guess anything happened from the outside. 

“Thank you.” Cal sighed, feeling like he wanted to hide away and just stop existing. Just for a little while. Fred nodded.  
“Come on, let's see if we can't continue our last lesson. Take your mind off of things, yeah?” he smiled and elbowed Cal to the shoulder.  
“I don't think-” Cal shook his head, but Fred wouldn't have any of it.  
“Please. There's something I have to show you.” he insisted. Cal frowned, his curiousity peaked.  
“Am I going to like this?” he asked, warily.  
“Probably?” Fred grinned. Cal shot him a doubtful look.  
“Seriously? I'm hurt, Cal!” Fred carried on dramatically, swooning. “You don't even trust your own blood brother? Your smart, powerful, resourceful big brother?” Fred smirked, placing his hands under his chin and batting his eyelids. Cal tried, he really did, but he couldn't stop the laugh that left his mouth.  
“And you're so humble, too!” he pushed his older brother out of his face and swept his own hair back in a gesture of habit. “Fine. What do you want to show me?” 

Fred took him through a maze of streets they had both memorized by now, making their way through the city to an outside area where a smuggling tunnel was closeby. Cal had been here before, it was where they practiced their magic together. Cal looked out over the city from this hidden plateau, finding a rare moment of beauty in the faraway lights coming from the city's homes and street lights. From here, it all didn't seem so bad. Even the cathedral with all it's horrorific memories looked beautiful from here. 

“You remember what I taught you last time?” Fred's voice snapped Cal out of his contemplation.  
“The Identify, yes.” Cal nodded, turning towards Fred.  
“I'm going to teach you something else now.” Fred announced. “Remember Shield?”  
“Yes.”  
“Catch!” Fred formed a fireball in his hand and fired it at Cal, barely giving him any time to react. However, the shield was one of Cal's most used and practised spells, the magic field around him appearing in less than the blink of an eye and with little to no effort.  
“Good!” Fred grinned, a hint of pride. “I'll teach you how to make fire. How to control it. But you have to promise me never to use it where anyone can see.”  
“As usual. I promise. You know, I can be discreet when I want to be.” Cal teased.  
“Right, pay attention-” 

Fred spent about an hour explaining how to make fire, showing Cal the runes and making him draw them from memory until he memorized it. Then they practiced calling it forth for another hour, until Cal was able to form a ball of fire in his fist, and direct it to a target. After practicing it for some time, Cal noticed Fred had stopped watching with as much interest as before, gaze trailed off to the city behind them. 

“What's wrong?” Cal asked.  
“Tonight is the night, Cal.” Fred said, leaving no room for doubt. Cal felt his stomach drop like a stone, the realisation hitting him and sending a cold shiver through his body.  
“Wh- Rekz has already finished arranging it?” Cal said. “But mass is tonight!”  
“I know. It's not ideal, but we have a plan.” Fred said. “We'll go to mass, just as usual. When the fighting begins, we slip away without anyone looking. I'll meet yout near the alcove and we'll run away. We can leave tonight. The party has been bribed and they'll be waiting for us here.”  
“I- I didn't think it'd happen so fast.” Cal said, a little overwhelmed.  
“Me neither, but we may only have this one chance. We have to take it.” Fred said.  
“I agree, I just- we should pack our essentials. Travel light.” Cal said, sensibility taking over.  
“Yes. Make sure they dont see you carry it into the cathedral.” Fred warned. “One slip and it's over.”  
“I know.” Cal nodded, nerves raging through his body, tightening their grip on his stomach. “I'll be careful.”  
“Good. Let's go back. We don't have that long before mass begins.” 

Cal's thoughts raced while he packed his most essential belongings. This was it, he realised. They'd been planning this for years. Pulling the right strings was tricky and dangerous, and no one could be fully trusted. They'd taken a gamble with Rekz, a boy they grew up with, who'd ended up with the smugglers. It seemed the safest option. 

“Right. I'll go ahead so people don't see us together.” Fred said, heaving his pack over his shoulder.  
“Be careful out there, Fred.” Cal said, getting up.  
“I will. And you too. Good luck.” Fred laid a hand on Cal's shoulder and squeezed him, Cal doing the same to Fred.  
“We'll be free soon.” Fred stated, confident as always. “Stay safe.”  
“Shadows guide you.” Cal nodded, Fred turning to leave.  
“Fred-” Cal hesitated.  
“Hm?” Fred frowned, looking over his shoulder.  
“If this goes wrong- I- I love you.” Cal said, feeling his jaw clench at the thought of everything that could go wrong.  
“I love you too, little brother.” Fred grinned and gave him an assuring wink. “When next we speak it'll be on the surface. Free. I promise.”  
Cal smiled at Fred before he turned around and left, closing the door. Anxiety made Cal's movements shaky, but underneath it was excitement. Relief. There was a way out, and he knew they'd both make it out. 

They had to.


	2. 2

He waited an hour, as they had planned, so no one could possibly suspect they were both trying to run away. Merely the act of plotting to escape The Underdark was enough for death without trial. The Drow did not take kindly to kin who fled upstairs to spread stories about them. With a sigh, Cal rose from his bed and stuffed the last rations into it. It was packed lightly, but he still felt the weight of it like he was carrying a bag of bricks. He had to control his emotions, show no fear. Act as normal as possible. The knot in his stomach made this hard, but then again he never was keen to go to mass. He took a deep breath, looked around the room one more time and imprinted it in his memory. The smudgy yellow walls, the flimsy furniture, the moth-eaten beds. Never again would he be locked up in a place like this. 

He stepped out the door, pack casually slung over his shoulder. Matron Yala was nowhere to be seen and Cal did not wait around to find out where she was. He slipped outside and took the quiet route to the cathedral, entering through the servant's entrance. He left his pack at the alcove, hidden behind a few rocks. The alcove was in the basement, hidden behind some barrels and sacks, a small rocky path that lead down and then up, into the slums of the city. From there it was a short walk to the plateau. Everything was in place. 

When he took his spot in the cathedral's pew, his eyes darted around in search of Fred, but he couldn't see him anywhere. Probably for the best, in case anyone caught them exchanging glances. 

The priestess began her sermon, Cal looking at the black marble floors that would soon be covered in blood. He'd wondered many times if that's why they chose to build it out of black marble. And not just the floors, the pillars, the altar, all black as night, with white dots like stars in the sky he would soon be able to see. He only ever saw drawings of the sky, small glimpses of it through cracks in the rocks above. What would fresh air feel like? The wind through your hair? 

Cal wondered all that and didn't initially notice the acolytes carrying in what looked like a banner. He didn't pay attention to it until he saw the priestess make a dramatic gesture, drawing his gaze to the skeleton on the altar. This wasn't strange, they often displayed skeletons of the powerful that had died that week, a macabre and frankly distasteful way of burial among the rich and powerful.   
Cal saw how the priestess picked up the skull of the skeleton, that looked remarkably fresh. She held it up for everyone to see.

“My brethren, a traitor has been brought to justice tonight!” she called out, her voice loud and dark. “Behold! The coward that dared to attempt an escape, and was punished by our Lady Lolth!” 

Cal felt the blood leave his face, forgetting to breathe. No, it couldn't be. His fingers shook as they sought support on the pew's backrest. 

His worst fear was confirmed as the acolytes rose the banner, displaying the flayed, battered skin of his brother. Merely a shell, still bleeding, the red running down the pole and dripping onto the floor. It was still warm, Cal could see the steam rising off it. 

He couldn't see any more, tears blinded him, breath stocking in his throat before he threw up on the cathedral floor, hand grasping his chest in an attempt to lessen the wracking pain. 

He heard them laugh, he realized. They were laughing at him. At Fred. He wiped his mouth and then his tears, seeing how the priestess walked up to him with a smug, confident grin. Kneeled and shaking on the floor, he couldn't find the strenght to get up. He was cold to the bone and still feeling sick to his stomach. 

“Take a good look, little Cal.” the priestess said with a honeyed voice, pushing the skull forward. Cal retched again, seeing the skull was still covered with a few patches of hair and skin. Dried blood was in the eyesockets and he did not want to think about where they'd gone. Those bright, lively, violet eyes. He'd looked into them little over an hour ago, for the last time, he realized now. 

“Your brother was a filthy traitor!” the priestess exclaimed, loud enough for all to hear. Her cruel eyes looked at Cal with disdain, as if he were no more than a stain on the floor. She dropped the skull next to Cal, turning to the public.   
“We all know what happens to traitors and their families!” she started riling them up, but she barely had to try, they were like a herd of cattle waiting to stampede. 

Cal heard them cry out for his death, for blood to honour Lolth. His nauseau subsided, replaced by pure and unbridled rage and desperation. His hands shook with the power that had been waiting inside of him all those years, ready to be unleashed. He laid a hand on Fred's skull and saw his knuckles turn pale with the grip, feeling something enter his mind like a flash of lightning. 

“Tear them apart.” 

A voice, cold, raw but somehow familiar. Cal wasn't strong enough to argue and he felt himself rise. He wasn't shaking anymore. Holding Fred tightly in one hand, he looked at the Priestess, who inched back with a look of horror on her face. Calmly he looked at her and felt how the familiar presence pushed him onward, empowered him. The priestess opened her mouth, no doubt to order every last one of them there to kill him, to call him a heretic. 

But all that came out of her mouth was her last breath. Her soul evaporized in front of him, her hands clasping at her throat before darkness spewed out of her, like all the rot and decay she had let fester inside left her body at once. Cal heard screaming, vaguely in the back of his mind, he recognized it as people crying for help. He saw some that were brave enough to approach, some in darkness, others head on. 

He felt the cathedral tremble, saw some of the pillars starting to crack and tear. What was happening? He looked at his hands and saw them radiate with a brilliant darkness, perfect obsidian that brimmed with raw energy. 

Again, the voice spoke.

“They deserve to die.”

They did. 

All of them had to die. Cal looked at the skin of his brother, displayed like a sick trophy. The acolytes inched back when a red hot rage consumed him, and he screamed in anger before he lashed out at the first thing in his reach. Screaming rang in his ears as he swept the first challenger off his feet with a great claw made of pure shadow. It's talons pierced through flesh like a hot knife through butter. 

They kept coming, but Cal's fury was far greater than their number. He had no idea how he was doing all this, but it felt like all the years he'd held back his power were flowing out of the bottleneck like a sabraged bottle of wine, darkness grasping everywhere and enveloping him in an embrace that felt more like home than anything else ever had. He let it happen and flowed with it, taking out anyone who was bold enough to challenge him. He struck them down one by one, until none were left standing. 

No, not none. 

Cal felt one more presence, hidden. He heard the shuffling of rubble and immediately fixated on the source, leaping at it with an unnatural agility he didn't know he had. Readying a deadly strike, he charged in and saw-

A child.

It was like everything left him all at once, the power flowing away in a mere instant, back to where it had come from. Cal stumbled and fell, unable to stop gracefully with such great speed. He laid on the floor a moment, panting, his mind struggling to keep up. The child whimpered and sobbed quietly, terrified. 

Cal found the strenght in his body to sit up, groaning with the strain of his muscles. He looked around, at the destruction he'd caused. All the benches, pillars, the altar, the preacher's chair, the banners, the artwork on the wall, the mosaic tiles were all broken or spattered with blood. It had become impossible to discern the black marble floor from the pooling blood coming from the many bodies. 

Cal looked at his hands and then back at the scene. A limb convulsed in the pile of bodies, wood splinters littered the floor, some of the pews were flaring hot with fire and Cal could hear the cathedral crumble around him. The ground still shook lightly, an after effect of the carnage no doubt. Had he done this? The entire noble caste of The Underdark – dead. 

He heard a huge crack above him, head snapping to look up, and what he saw filled him with dread. The ceiling was ripping apart rapidly, stone coming down and raining rubble onto the pile of corpses. He had to get out of there, and quick. 

He rose to his feet despite the pain wracking his body, swooped the child off it's feet and carried it with him, beelining for the alcove. A horrible splitting noise echoed through the destroyed cathedral and although he was running for his life, Cal couldn't help the last glance he took at Fred's body, the sight filling him with grief but also determination. He wouldn't let this be in vain. 

Clenching Fred's skull in one hand, and the child on his other arm, he ran down the stairs into the basement, feeling the ground shake violently as the cathedral started to come down. He slipped into the alcove, by some miracle remembering his pack, grabbing it quickly and hoisting it over his shoulder before he bolted for the exit. First a little bit further down into the network of tunnels underneath the city, then back up to the slums. He stopped for nothing, not when the risk of collapse was so great. The child on his arm was wailing, crying for his mother and Cal felt a pang of guilt as he realized he was the reason this child was now orphaned. 

He didn't have a lot of time to think about it, they made it up the stairs and Cal put the child on the floor, pointing towards the orphanage and giving it a nudge in the right direction. That's all it needed, the child bolting off to safety. Cal turned the other way and ran on, stuffing Fred's skull in his backpack to not draw too much attention. 

Not that anyone had time to look at him. People were coming out and watching as the cathedral collapsed into nothing but a pile of rubble. He took his chance to slip away, up the steep stairs to the plateau, where the smuggler's party should be waiting. 

There were people, but it appeared fate was not kind to him tonight. As soon as he appeared, a party of seasoned killers and hunters drew their weapons, blocking his path. They must've gotten wind of their plan somehow. Perhaps by torturing Fred, or had Rekz talked? Cal growled with anger, eyes darting between the gathered mercenaries. They looked at him with shock and disgust, and only then did he realize he was covered head to toe in the blood of those he had slain. Cal didnt see Rekz there, and cursed under his breath as the assassins started circling him. Yet another one that was rotten to the core. This entire city was built on false religion and betrayal. 

“So Rekz's information was good after all.” one chuckled.  
“I killed everyone in the cathedral. Do you really want to get in my way?” Cal found that the power now came more easily than before, the spark lighting up from deep within, a primal force that had always been there and was now relishing it's newfound freedom. 

“No, impossible-” one of the bowmen hissed, the captain of the lot, recognized by his silver lined helmet, silencing him with a gesture.   
“You bested the entire gentry that attended mass? Don't make me laugh. You're just an ordinary heretic, refusing Lolth's gifts.” he scoffed.   
Cal's eyes narrowed themselves in concentration. He didn't have time for this. Soon the whole city guard would be on his heels.   
“Get out of my way. I won't ask again.” he warned, and he meant it. He felt the presence in his backpack, like a warm hand on his shoulder.   
“Kill him.” the captain spoke, and on his word, a dozen arrows flew in Cal's direction. Just like this afternoon, his shield appeared without a thought, like a taught reflex. The moment it caught them off guard, Cal made fire appear in his fists, fueled by his last bit of power and rage. 

“Watch out!” the captain's warning came too late, the fireball shooting into their midst, the impact shaking the cavern of the city, some chips of the ceiling raining down. Cal heard the party of assassins scream, some were merely on fire, frantically trying to put out the flames, others were on the floor, screaming while their hands covered their face. And the rest - including the captain – had simply ceased to exist. Mere piles of ash on the stone floor. 

Cal didn't stop to be amazed by his own power. While they were distracted, he slipped through and ran, listening for any signs of pursuit. He did not know which way to go, but he followed his instincts: up. The screaming slowly became less audible and he did not hear any footsteps behind him, but he didn't let himself slow down. Not after he'd reached the surface, not after he'd raced off the mountain that held the city. He ran until his adrenaline stopped providing him with the tireless power of prey on the run. 

No, not prey. Tonight, he had become a hunter. 

He slowed his pace, his sides aching like he was being stabbed with a knife each time he drew breath. He finally stopped, the darkness not hiding what looked like a safe place to stay for now. There seemed to be no one around, and there was no village or roads nearby. It was some kind of altar, but Cal was so exhausted he could not bring himself to examine it before he crashed down against it, slumping down and flopping his backpack down next to him. After he'd caught his breath for a few minutes, he started nodding off, but he remembered he'd brought a blanket, taking it out of his pack and wrapping it around himself before he allowed himself to drift into a very deep sleep.


	3. 3

He woke with a jolt, feeling a strange warm feeling on his face. He blinked into a blinding light, realizing the the heat dancing over his face was caused by the rays of sun falling through the leafy treetops. He sat up, having slumped down over night slowly, and stretched. He was still alive. No one had come after him. How far had he ran? His head hurt with the questions and the burden of knowing what had happened yesterday. He still couldn't believe it was all real. He looked at the dried up blood on his clothes and skin and decided the first order of business was to find some water to wash himself with. The rest could wait. 

He discovered a small stream nearby, with cold mountain water running down steadily. He washed himself thoroughly, but he still didn't feel like he'd washed off the years of corruption, bloodshed and betrayal. He doubted that feeling would ever go away, and with the skin of his hands raw from the cold water, he returned and changed into the other clothes he'd packed. He washed his old ones and laid them out to dry on the altar before he dug into his rations, though he resisted the hungry gnaw from his stomach, telling him to eat it all. Who knew how soon he would be able to get more food, so he restrained himself and ate just enough to sustain himself today. 

He investigated the place he'd found, working out it must have at some point been a shrine to some kind of god. It was decorated with a lot of imagery of a reaper, so probably to do with death, but he wasn't quite sure which deity. There were many such gods in various religions, and he didn't know surface religion well enough to draw a conclusion. However, he did remove his clothes from the altar and hung them over an old stone bench instead, just in case said god wouldn't appreciate being used as a washing rack. 

He spent the day resting, getting used to the world topside, figuring out where he was, anything to stop him from the task that actually needed doing. Fred's skull was next to his backpack, waiting to perhaps be buried, laid to rest. Cal put his hands in his sides and looked at the skull, pondering. Yesterday's events hadn't properly processed yet, but he thought Fred would appreciate being at least partly put to rest. 

He just didn't feel ready yet. Cal sighed, continuing to distract himself with the task of setting up camp here, taking off his shoes and enjoying the feeling of grass and mud under his feet. He'd never experienced anything like this, the world around him just seemed to breathe, the wind gently played with his hair, the smells and the sensations all seemed to fight for his attention, but his mind kept going back to yesterday, to the feeling of blood making his skin and hair sticky, that horrific visage of Fred's skin and bones- 

Cal shook his head to get the images off his retina. He didn't want to run away from what happened, but he also did not want to dwell on it. He was only 20 when his parents died, fifty years ago. He didn't quite remember how he coped. And Fred had been his friend, his caretaker for so long, he felt like he should cry. But although there was a definitive hole in his chest when he thought of Fred, he didn't feel the need to cry. He'd exacted vengeance last night, in it's purest form. They all paid the price. Perhaps the best way to honour Fred now was to move on, to build a life on the surface, like they'd planned. 

He decided to wait a little bit longer, see how far he was from the Underdark's entrance, tracking his own trail back to it the next day, but he didn't make it all the way there before nightfall, returning under the cover of darkness. It was far away enough, he decided. The shrine was hidden very well, behind several rough patches of forest, hills and there was no real path up there. He covered up his tracks as well as he could, just in case the Drow hunters would come and look for him, though he doubted they would. They wouldn't leave the safety of the dark by day, and the shrine was far enough that they couldn't travel there between moonrise and moondown. 

Cal still wondered how he'd ended up here, exhausted and scared as he had been. He'd kept on running until he physically couldn't anymore, but his body had told him where to go, as if it knew about this place. For some reason, he felt safe here, despite the obvious theme of death. When Cal returned from his hike, he found Fred radiating a strange kind of power, and he carefully picked him up, examinating his brother's skull for any irregularities. There was no voice this time, but the presence was still there, faintly warming his hands as they picked the skull clean of the last little remnants of skin. He'd have to boil the skull to get the blood and last bits of flesh out properly before it started rotting, only he had no pots or pans with him. While he closely examined the bone, he heard something rattle inside. He carefully loosened it from it's place through the place where the trachea would have connected to the skull and pulled out his trophy, a small shard of unnaturally glowing obsidian. He put Fred's skull down and examined the shard closely. This wasn't like anything he'd seen before, and it was no ordinary obsidian either. It glowed with all kinds of colours, like oil on water. 

And it seemed to whisper in a language he barely understood. Was this the source of the voice? It'd been so loud and clear when it'd whispered to him in the cathedral, so why couldn't he understand it now? He held the shard up to the sun and found he could actually vaguely see through it, wondering if he'd not just heard his own thoughts really loudly instead of an otherwordly voice. He didn't regret what he'd done, he knew they all deserved death or even worse. Perhaps now that he'd wiped out the majority of the nobles, the city could make a real new beginning, one untainted by their squabbling and rivalries. It was a small sliver of hope, but Cal knew even when he was thinking about it how unlikely his hope was to come true. 

How would surfacers react to him, he wondered? Would they hate him for the deeds of his people? Or would they be more open minded? After all, there were plenty of murderers, thieves and other criminals among the surfacers. How much did they even know of the Drow? 

All these questions plagued his mind so much he didn't hear the footsteps close to him until after it'd stepped on a branch. For a moment, he froze and an instinct inside him rejoiced foolishly, thinking it was his brother. The next instant, that feeling was gone as he realized that couldn't be. He looked over his shoulder and saw a large elk standing in the clearing, looking at him calmly. Just an animal, but Cal had never seen one up close like this. It was a truly magnificent animal, graceful and- it could feed him for days. He almost forgot his need for food, but he couldn't really slip up this opportunity, no matter how beautiful the animal. 

He slowly got to his feet, ready to cast a spell and take the animal down. He'd never done anything like this before. He'd never killed an animal and when the meat was already cooked and on his plate, it didn't look like it'd once been alive. This though, looking into the big brown eyes of the elk, knowing he could end it's life to save his own-

Was he being a hypocrit? He killed all those people two days ago and didnt even regret it, and now he had trouble ending the life of an animal, to sustain himself?

Before he could make a decision, the animal screamed, and Cal saw an arrow strike it's head before it went down. He was alert immediately, sourcing the arrow from the point it had to have been fired from and activating his shield. 

“Whoa whoa, easy!” a voice said, as Cal got ready to fire a spell in the direction. “I'm not here to hurt you!”   
Cal narrowed his eyes and cancelled his spell, but his shield remained as he watched how a hunter emerged from the woods. He was elven, long and slender like Cal himself, but with fair skin, tanned by the many hours in the sun. His dark brown curls danced around his face and his smile was friendly while he left his cover.   
“I didn't expect to find anyone here.” he said, gesturing at the shrine. “I'm Rhysand.”  
“What do you want?” Cal said, wary.   
“Well, nothing in particular.” Rhysand grinned, shrugging. “What's your name? And why are you all the way out here?”  
“My name's none of your business.” Cal mumbled, seeing how Rhysand looked him up and down.   
“You're a drow.” he concluded, with no real emotion behind it.  
“And you're an elf.” Cal countered.   
“Why yes.” Rhysand's grin returned. “I'm glad to see we both have working eyes.”

Cal didn't know what to make of this cheerful elf, but he felt safe enough to where he dropped his shield, seeing how Rhysand kneeled next to the elk and put down his bow.  
“I'm sorry if I scared you. I was only chasing this elk and happened upon you by accident. Do you live here?”  
“N-no, I don't. I don't really live anywhere, I suppose.” Cal said.  
“Really?” Rhysand frowned in surprise. “Just like me, then!”

Rhysand took out a knife and started working on skinning the elk, Cal approaching carefully.   
“Want me to show you how?” Rhysand asked, looking at Cal for a moment.   
“Yes, that's- please.” Cal nodded, unsure how to act.   
“You don't have to be so nervous.” Rhysand laughed. “You act like you're surrounded by predators.”  
“I was, not long ago.” Cal mumbled, crouching next to Rhysand and looking at how he skinned the elk. “You seem to have done this a lot.”   
“I have. I hunt for a living. I live in the woods in these parts, it's my primary foodsource.” Rhysand explained. Cal nodded, feeling a wave of nausea when Rhysand tore off the skin with his knife and hands. He couldn't help but have a flashback to the horrible events in the cathedral, his brother had been skinned, like a beast-

Cal quickly rose and ran into the bushes to vomit, leaving an unsuprised Rhysand to do the dirty work himself. When Cal came back Rhysand had already flayed the meat off the bones, and was packing it in special folds of linen, which were then placed in his pack.   
“A kind sorcerer enchanted these for me.” Rhysand explained. “They keep the meat cool and preserved. Here, have a few. I have enough.”  
Cal didn't really have a choice, Rhysand shoved the bundles of linen into his arms decisively.   
“Thank you.” Cal mumbled, feeling that the cloth was indeed cold to the touch.   
“It's okay, I threw up on my first time seeing an animal being skinned too. You get used to it.” He smiled warmly. Cal sighed, looking away.   
“It wasn't the first time I'd seen it.” he said, quietly.   
“Hey, you want some of the meat? You look like you're almost out of rations.” Rhysand gestured at Cal's backpack, effectively changing the subject. 

“You're very kind.” Cal said, having mellowed out a little. “Why are you doing all this? Helping me?”  
“It's nothing. I can tell you've had a hard time. Someone helped me when I was on my lowest, so now I'm doing the same for you.” Rhysand smiled. Cal found himself trusting Rhysand, at least to a degree. There was nothing evil in those cheerful brown eyes.   
“My name is Cal, by the way.” Cal gave Rhysand his name, as a gesture of said careful trust.   
“It's nice to meet you, Cal.” Rhysand's eyes shimmered with a cheerful sparkle. “Will you let me stay here and show you how you can survive by yourself?”  
“I would be delighted.” Cal nodded.  
“Delighted? My, my, you have a lot to learn.” 

Over the course of that week, Rhysand stayed with Cal at the shrine, showing him basic survival skills and teaching him about the world around him. Cal told him the short version of what had happened the night he escaped and Rhysand had listened with bated breath. 

“You actually escaped the Underdark? Drow are rare here, but whenever I've met them they usually are either here to trade or steal. They tried to rob my cabin a few times, since it's on the road to the nearest village. They never succeeded.” Rhysand grinned.   
“You killed them?”  
“Of course. It's them or me. They're not like you. They come to the surface only to kill and wreak havoc.” Rhysand said it casually, but Cal didn't think he realised how important it was to hear him say that he wasn't like them.   
“You really believe that? That I'm not like them?” Cal asked, bewildered.   
“Of course! You're not trying to kill me for one, and second, I have this people sense, that tells me wether or not someone can be trusted. And third, like, you escaped, right? You ran away for a reason.” Rhysand shrugged. “You're one of the good ones. I can tell.”  
“Even though I killed so many people?” Cal frowned.  
“I killed more people than you.” Rhysand stated blatantly. “That doesn't make me a bad person. Some people just need killing. Like bandits, assassins and the like. Nobles too, sometimes.”  
“I suppose so.” Cal said, thoughtful.   
“Nothing supposed about it. That's the way it works. Spend too much time thinking about it and watch your life roll by while you do nothing but consider the past.” Rhysand said. Cal knew Rhysand made a good point. He was just trying to protect him, shield him from dwelling too much on the past. 

“They skinned my brother, you know.” Cal said. He thought Rhysand deserved to know.   
“What.” more of a statement than a question.  
“They killed him, skinned him and flayed his meat like he was a beast.” Cal said quietly, voice full of supressed rage.   
“Shit, Cal.” Rhysand's voice was full of sympathy. “I'm sorry.”  
“It's alright. I just thought you should know.” Cal smiled at Rhysand, reassuringly.   
“So that's why you couldn't watch me skin that elk.” Rhysand nodded in understanding. “You should have said something! I feel so insensitive now.”  
“It's my own silly mistake. Don't worry about it.” Cal waved away Rhysand's worries. “Besides, I do have to learn to tolerate the sight, if I'm to survive by myself in the wilds.”  
“True enough. But don't let me rush you into anything, alright?” Rhysand insisted. Cal looked at Rhysand with gratefulness, feeling for the first time since he'd left the Underdark, that he'd found a companion, a friend that he could trust. Rhysand's cheeks were a little red when he focused his attention on the fire, eyes darting to and from Cal. 

“Y-you know Cal-” Rhysand seemed to have something he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words. Cal waited patiently, cocking his head.   
“I think you're really brave. Doing what you did, that took courage. And you did it. You're worth so much more than that Matron treated you as.” Rhysand's voice was a little unstable, Cal thought from anger.   
“Thank you, Rhysand.”  
“Stop. Just call me Rhys.” Rhys said, fondly annoyed. “I told you a dozen times.”  
“Sorry, I- we get taught to use eachother's full names. The only person I ever shortened the name of was Fred.” Cal explained. “It's still strange.”  
“I understand.” Rhys said, nodding. “Hey, shall I take you to the village tomorrow? Teach you how to do trade with the locals, maybe get you some books on the common language, some supplies.”  
“Sounds good.” Cal agreed. He wasn't quite sure when Rhys had come and sat closer to him, but he was next to him now, the two sharing a comfortable silence while Rhys cooked the meat on the spit. 

Cal had missed having company he could feel safe with, and while the two shared dinner, they exchanged stories of their lives, though Rhys's life was far more varied than Cal's, he didn't feel like Rhys would get bored of the stories. And so they talked for hours, until finally they were both tired and wished eachother a good night's sleep. 

When they set out for town the next day, Cal left Fred inside the altar, safely hidden from view. He didn't feel quite right leaving him behind, but carrying a skull into town wouldn't exactly give people the right idea. It was all about not standing out and pretending you belonged there, Rhys had said. So Cal hid Fred and followed Rhys, back to a path that lead to a small town, with a quaint little marketplace. 

Rhys lead him through the town, and although they caught a few odd glances from the locals, no one said anything about Cal being a Drow. He didn't see any other Drow though, and some of the locals hurried away when they saw him approach. 

“Don't worry, they're just not used to the sight of you.” Rhys mumbled. “It's nothing personal.”  
“I know.” Cal assured him, the two continuing through to their planned stops. Cal took in the sights of the town, so different from the city environment he grew up in. It was all so incredibly open, and the sky was still something he wasn't used to. So wide and vast, like nothing he could have imagined from seeing the pictures in the books. 

He was lost in thought, looking at the sky when he heard Rhysand laugh softly.   
“Lost something up there?”  
Cal looked at Rhysand and was caught off guard by the frankly adoring smile that was thrown his way.   
“N-no. I just- I grew up with nothing but rocks above my head. The sky is so much larger than that.” Cal explained, feeling a little awkward.   
“It must be strange for you, being up here after such a long time under the ground.” Rhysand said, sympatheticly.   
“It is. It's a completely different world.” Cal admitted. “But I like it. I feel free.”  
“You are.” Rhysand confirmed. “So long as you don't commit any crimes, of course.”  
“My existance is already a crime in the Underdark.”   
“But not here. You have a new life ahead of you. And it can go in any direction you want.” Rhysand said, trading a few coins for a jug of mead.  
“Yes. It's still kind of dawning on me that I can do anything I want.” Cal smiled, feeling a little excitement. 

Rhysand unexpectedly walked up to him, his hand taking a strand of Cal's hair.   
“We should get you some hair oil, shine that up for you.” he suggested.   
“There's oils for that?” Cal frowned.  
“Of course! What do you wash your hair with underground then?” Rhysand asked, curious as he took Cal to a market stall with a wide array of oils.   
“Mostly just water. Sometimes we had truffle oil to combat the knots, but my brother and I weren't very rich so we couldn't afford it much.” Cal shrugged.   
“You're going to love what these will do then.” Rhysand smirked and bought a bottle of oil for him, Cal reading the label as Camomile oil for the hair. 

Upon their return to camp, they first stored their supplies properly before Cal took Fred from the altar again. They'd bought a suspension that cleaned bone thoroughly and hygienically, and while Rhysand prepared the fire and pot to boil the skull in, Cal mixed the suspension. 

“You must think this is strange.” Cal said, as they watched how Fred's skull boiled in the suspension.   
“A little.” Rhysand admitted. “But if it's what you need.” he shrugged. “I've seen weirder things.”  
“Really?” Cal frowned, curious but also a little incredulous.  
“I don't want to talk about it.” Rhysand chuckled. “It was a lot weirder and slightly more traumatic than this, I assure you.”   
“I'll take your word for it then.” Cal said with a smile.   
“Cal?”  
“Yes Rhys?”  
“Have you got like a – erm, like ah-” Rhysand was searching for the right word. “A partner? Like, a wife?”  
Cal couldn't stop a chortle. “Good gods, no. I never really thought about love down in the Underdark.”   
“Was there no pressure to have children then?”  
“Not from me. I wasn't a noble, just a poor kid, worker class.” Cal shrugged. “Besides, the women rule society down there. If one of them had wanted children from me, I wouldn't have had much choice.”  
“Wait, you mean-” Rhysand was disgusted, Cal could tell, and a little bit of himself shrunk. No wonder some outsiders thought so badly of the Drow.   
“Drow society is so harsh.” Rhysand shook his head. “I'm sorry you had to go through that. But like, do you have a thing...about women?”  
“A thing?” Cal frowned.  
“Are you attracted to women?” Rhysand elaborated.  
“I guess. I don't know, actually. I've never really thought about it. If she was nice, perhaps.” Cal replied truthfully.  
“Just nice?”  
“Also unwilling to use me as her personal inseminator.” Cal clarified dryly, causing Rhysand to laugh. “The bar isn't very high I suppose.”  
“What about men though? You ever considered dating a man?” Rhysand asked.   
“No, there wasn't really any opportunity or time for that, though I know a lot of men tend to keep the company of other men, out of a sympathy of some sort. Band together and talk about the bad experiences and...make eachother forget. Fred used to have a select band of friends with which he did that.” Cal explained.   
“How awful. Was there no love involved at all?”   
“Of course there was. But it was rare and few in between.” Cal sighed. “I always knew I was going to leave. I didn't want an attachment to anyone and leave them behind.”  
“I guess I understand.” Rhysand nodded.   
“Now, allow me a question.” Cal said, glancing at Rhysand. “Why were you asking all that?”

Rhysand's cheeks started glowing.   
“Well, I just- I was curious. There's so much about Drow life I know nothing about.”  
“Fair enough.” Cal smiled, getting up. “I'm going to try out that hair oil you bought me. Gods know my hair needs it.” his hair had not taken well to the newfound days in the sunlight, the tips brittle and the bulk feeling tough to the touch.   
“Alright, I'll start preparing dinner.” Rhysand said, glad that the subject had changed. 

Cal took a towel with him to the nearby pond, undressing before he dipped into the cold, but not freezing water. The mud flowed under his feet, the cold putting goosebumps on his skin. He wet his hair thoroughly, then returned to shore to treat it with the oil, careful not to miss a single strand. He wrapped himself in the towel as he waited for the oil to settle and do it's job, enjoying the sun for a bit. 

Two weeks. That's all it'd been. Rhysand's presence had made things much easier, and Cal thanked the gods for him and all his help. He'd have to figure out a good way to repay him, one their ways parted. Cal had no doubt that they would eventually, because Rhysand was a born wanderer, a wild spirit that wouldn't be happy being tied to one person or place. And besides, it was likely their aims would not align in the end. The shard of obsidian fascinated Cal, and he'd decided he wanted to know what it was. Rhysand hadn't had any clue to it's origins, but something told Cal the solution was closer than they thought. A gut feeling, he supposed. 

A twig snapped and Cal's ears twitched lightly at the sound. Before he could react, Rhysand slid out of the bushes with his hands up, a guilty grin on his face. Cal awkwardly wrapped the towel tighter around him, feeling how his cheeks flared up.  
“Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to disturb you.” Rhysand apologized.   
“But you did.” Cal huffed, standing up in a hurry.   
“Yes, I was just-”  
“Sneaking a peek?” Cal frowned judgementally.  
“No, I was making sure there weren't any predators around.” Rhysand said, pouting.   
“Well, are there?” Cal asked, making sure to sound offended, even though he barely was.   
“Not that I was able to see.” Rhysand said, eyes darting from the ground to Cal's face.   
“And why were you actually here?” Cal pursed his lips in anticipation of Rhysand's answer.  
“Wha- that was- well, actually-” Rhys stammered, even the tips of his ears glowing red.   
“You're the worst liar I've ever met.” Cal grinned, taking a step closer. “Also the worst sneak. That's the second time you've failed to remain undetected.”

Rhysand refound some of his usual confidence. “I guess you bring it out in me.”  
Cal chuckled. “And what else do I bring out in you?”  
Rhysand froze for a second, Cal taking delight with his surprise. Just because he was inexperienced didn't mean he was never taught the game of love. On the contrary, Fred had taught him many ways to be charming and beguiling, to flatter and seduce. But he'd never actually played the game with another, willing subject. He thought he understood now why Fred visited the men's clubs as much as he did. It was quite thrilling to go back and forth like this, neither bothering to hide their feelings. 

“You knew?” Rhysand said, voice wavering.   
“You didn't exactly hide it well.” Cal smiled, but not mockingly. He found the attention quite flattering, especially since he wasn't in a very good physical condition. Under Rhysand's eyes, he became aware of his protruding ribs, his sharp hipbones and thin hands, confidence wavering for a moment when Rhysand came closer. It must have shown because Rhysand smiled, not his usual cocky grin, but a soft smile, reserved for a select few people. 

“You're a very handsome man, Cal.” he said, quietly. Now it was Cal's turn to be thrown off balance, his brain struggling to come up with a reply. Rhysand chuckled adoringly, a sound that made the last of Cal's defenses melt.   
“Come.” Rhysand gestured and Cal found his way into his arms somehow, though he couldn't really feel his legs anymore. Up close, Cal noticed how tall Rhysand actually was, at least a head taller than himself, and he wasn't exactly short. Rhysand's fingers carefully rubbed over Cal's arms and back, Cal shrinking a little as he passed the bones.  
“You've been through a lot.” Rhysand mumbled, purposely feeling Cal's ribs with gentle pressure. “That's nothing to be ashamed of. You will grow, you will become more than any of them ever was. I know you will. I can feel your power almost physically radiate from you. No wonder they were frightened of you.” Rhysand's voice was quiet, but every word was spoken with purpose. “Come on, I'll help you rinse out your hair.”

In the soft light of the sunset, Rhysand gently helped Cal with all of his hair, the two sitting on the waterline mostly in silence, with only a few words quietly exchanged occasionally. Cal had never experienced Rhysand like this, careful yet thorough in his contact, focused and intense.   
“Cal.” he mumbled.   
“Hm?” Cal merely hummed in return, feeling Rhysand's fingers massage his scalp. It took all his self control to not start purring.   
“Did I ever tell you where I'm originally from?” Rhysand asked.  
“I don't think you did.” Cal replied truthfully. “When I asked you just said you were a wanderer without a real home.”   
“That's true, to some extent. But I wasn't born such. My mother and father were nobles, related to the elven king.” Rhysand explained.   
“Is this where you tell me you're the lost prince of an elven kingdom?” Cal joked, Rhysand chuckling.   
“One day, maybe.” he bowed closer to Cal's neck and his lips softly brushed past his ear. Cal felt goosebumps, his heart making a little leap.   
“But no, that's not it. I experienced...something similar to what you went through.” Rhysand sighed, his breath tickling Cal's skin. “My family was slain by assassins who wanted to get back at the king. They knew they were close friends. I got away with my life, but I fled as far away as I could and I never wanted anything to do with that life anymore. Just like you.”  
“Is that why you stayed?” Cal asked.  
“Partly.” Rhysand admitted. “Also because you remind me of myself 200 years ago. So young, full of promise and raw untamed power.”   
“200 years? You're that old?” Cal didn't mean for his voice to shoot up an octave. “You look so young!”  
“Why thank you.” Rhysand chuckled. “But yes I am that old. 232.”   
“Wow. You must've seen so much more than me.” Cal mumbled.   
“Perhaps.” Rhysand's voice was a mere humm against Cal's skin. “I'll tell you more later. Shall we get to the fire before the sun is set? You might get cold.”  
Cal nodded, touched by the thoughtfullness of Rhysand's comment. Even Fred hadn't looked after him quite the same way. 

Back at camp, they spent the night talking about Rhysand's past, and how he was thinking of returning to what was once his home. It'd been well over 20 years since he'd left, and according to rumor, a new king had been appointed that had been a good family friend.   
“But I'm scared, too.” Rhysand admitted, him and Cal locked in a comfortable embrace by the fire. Rhysand's fingers caressed Cal's revitalized black hair, braiding it over and over.   
“Why?” Cal asked.  
“What if they don't remember me? It's been a long time.” Rhysand mumbled. “And he might perceive me as a threat. I might just get chased off again.”  
“Maybe. But if you don't go you will never know.” Cal argued.  
“True.” Rhysand nodded. “Would you come with me?”

Cal wasn't surprised that Rhysand asked. He didn't have an answer straight away however, mulling it over while looking at Rhysand's thoughtful brown eyes.   
“You don't have to answer right now.” Rhysand assured him. “I'll stay for a while yet. Make sure you're properly prepared for the scary big world.” he smiled. Cal saw the fire of hope and doubt in those intense eyes, realising the vastness of Rhysand's challenge that lay ahead. He couldn't imagine the courage needed to return after such a long time. 

“I'll think carefully about it.” Cal agreed. “For now, you're here.”   
“I am indeed.” Rhysand smiled as Cal laid his head on his lap. “Your eyes are truly a marvel, you know that? Like the stars themselves are inside them.”  
Cal didn't shy away from Rhysand's warm gaze, a small smile playing around his lips. Rhysand's brown curls blotting out the bright light of the moon, Cal reaching up to stroke a freckled cheek.   
“You stole all the stars and put them on your skin though.” he teased. 

A small chuckle, but then the world fell silent around them as Rhysand leaned in and kissed him, stealing his breath temporarily. For one moment, nobody but them existed, nothing except the warm touch of fingers in his hair and Rhysand's lips on his. 

Then he felt his guts tighten with a wave of anxiety. Rhysand froze, leaning back with an alert expression. He'd felt it too then?

“Something's not right.” Rhysand whispered. “The forest is too quiet.”   
Cal nodded, senses on high alert. An aura of dread came over the place, the darkness being covered in a thick blanket of mist. Rhysand pulled Cal into the thicket, making as little noise as possible. A gesture made it clear that he shouldn't even try to speak. Cal had no idea what was going on, but he did as Rhysand asked, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

And then it was suddenly there.


	4. 4

Cal's entire body tinged with ancient instinct. Goosebumps, a shiver over his spine and his heart pounding so loud it blurred all other noise. 

A giant skeletal foot, right in front of the altar, then a second foot, and the creature kneeled, revealing the rest of it's shrouded silhouette. A giant skeleton, with a primally shaped skull, giant hands taking the lid off the altar and searching for something inside. Cal trembled so hard it was hard to stay quiet, breathing becoming harder. Rhys noticed and put a calm hand on Cal's arm. The warmth drove away the fear, the squeeze made the trembling stop. They exchanged a glance and Cal nodded assuringly, taking back control of his emotions.

He knew what this creature was, from one of his books. A reticent shepherd. One of the most deadly creatures in existance. Completely silent in it's approach, numbing the minds of it's victims before it mauled them to death. But it had announced it's presence by the thick darkness that even their elven eyes could not pierce, and the swirling mist, that upon closer inspection, were actually ghostly hands, grasping at the shepherd's feet. 

It still searched the altar, making a small mournful noise when it found nothing inside. Cal didn't know when he'd stood up, but he noticed it when Rhys tried to pull him back down. The noise was enough to make their presence known to the shepherd, who looked their way. 

Cal felt a primal instinct in the back of his mind. But it wasn't to flee. It beckoned him.

“I will not hurt you.” 

Cal shivered when he recognized the voice in his head. It was the voice that had spoken to him in the cathedral. Rhys desperately tried to pull Cal away from the creature, but Cal turned around and smiled.   
“It's alright, Rhys. It means no harm.” he comforted him. Rhys let go of Cal, but still took out his bow, extremely guarded.  
As if to confirm Cal's words, the shepherd crouched with it's hands on it's knees, long spines protruding in the little moonlight that still pierced the nightly shadows. Cal stepped out of the bush, but Rhys did not follow. He had an arrow trained on the shepherd and held a close watch. 

“Who are you?” Cal asked. “I reckognize your voice, from before. You helped me in the cathedral, did you not?”

A nod.

“Then what is your name?”

The shepherd pointed at a runic engraving on the tomb, faded but still legible. 

“Myrkul.” 

Cal could tell even speaking was difficult, like it drained a lot of power. The shepherd then pointed at Cal's pocket, Cal remembering he'd put the shard in there. His hand found it, the obsidian warm to the touch. 

“The shard. Crown of horns.” 

The voice became distorted and faraway. 

“Broken. They hid it.”   
“They?” Cal hadn't the slightest clue. Did he mean the Drow? He presumed they were the ones who'd put the shard in Fred's skull. But it seemed the voice had reached the end of it's power, the rest nothing but unintelligble whispers. The sheperd rose and gingerly picked up Fred's skull, then silently asked for the shard. Cal's hand was barely larger than the creature's fingertip when he handed the shard to it, the shepherd carving a rune into Fred's skull with the shard before returning both items.   
It then nodded and left as silently as it had appeared, the darkness making way for the light of the moon, and the lingering mist vanishing into thin air. 

Cal didn't have time to consider what had happened before Rhys ran out of the bushes and grabbed him tightly by both arms.  
“Are you alright? What just happened? Did it mind control you?” Rhys's eyes were fearful and Cal shook his head.  
“I'm not hurt, Rhys.” he said, calmly. “It spoke to me, said something about Myrkul, and a crown of horns.”   
Rhys gasped, eyes growing wide. “Gods above, Cal.” Rhys pressed him into a tight hug, Cal feeling how Rhys was still shaking.   
“It's okay, it's gone.” Cal comforted him. “I'm alright.”  
“I'm glad you're okay. But this is worrying, Cal. Myrkul-” Rhys took a deep breath. He beckoned him along, sitting down on the log they'd been using as a bench. Cal put down Fred and the shard, both still radiating with power, before he focused his attention on Rhys.

“Myrkul is a dead god.” Rhys explained with a sigh. “The crown of horns is his spirit's vessel, where he sealed away his sentience after death.”  
“Wait, after his death? How-?”  
“I don't know, but I know Myrkul is bad news, Cal. The crown is an instrument of evil. It's transformed people into liches, undead and who knows what else. If this shard is part of it we should destroy it.” Rhys insisted.   
“You think we can?” Cal wondered. “If it's such a powerful magical artifact it will probably have wards in place.”

“We'll find out.” Rhys took the shard so quickly Cal couldn't protest. Rhys put the shard on the altar and swung his curved sword, the steel edge exploding as it hit the shard, the force of the blow hurling Rhys backwards against a pillar.   
“Rhys!” Cal still tasted the horrid metal on his tongue, the smell of it in the air after the explosion while he rushed to Rhys's side. “Are you alright?”  
Rhys groaned as he sat up, biting his lip in pain. “Yeah. Guess it does have a ward.”  
“You're an idiot.” Cal frowned sarcastically. Rhys grimaced with a short painful laugh.   
“Can't argue with you there.” 

Cal huffed and had a look at Rhys's wounds, but it appeared to be nothing more serious than a couple of bruises and a hurt sense of pride. He laid some of the self cooling linen over the most painful area, lecturing Rhys for his brashness.   
“You're lucky you're not dead.” Cal mumbled. Rhys just mumbled.   
“I had to try. I can't let that monster take over your mind.”  
Cal sighed deeply. “Thank you. For protecting me.”  
“Trying to, anyway. Didn't do much.” Rhys sighed.   
“We'll find a way.” Cal assured him. “I'm sure your elven brethren know more about magic than either of us, we might be able to learn something back at your old home.”  
“You mean-?” Rhys said, happily surprised. Cal smiled.  
“Yes, I'll come with you.” he nodded. Rhys immediately smothered him in a tight embrace, forgetting about his injuries and hissing when he was painfully reminded of them.   
“Ow, shit. Sorry- thank you Cal. You've no idea what that means to me.” Rhys's smile was tender despite the pain.

“I can roughly guess.” Cal said, before pressing a kiss to Rhys's forehead. “Let's get some rest and set off in the morning. I don't feel like lingering here.”  
“I'm with you on that.” Rhys agreed. Cal wanted to get up to get to his bedroll but Rhys took his hand and gently tugged him back down, smoothly kissing him on the lips, hands holding him in place firmly but gently.   
“Don't scare me like that again, okay?” Rhys said, once he'd moved back. “I thought that thing was just going to snap you in half.”   
“I promise I won't speak to anymore eldritch abominations.” Cal grinned at the ridiculousness of that statement, but part of it was also relief. He didn't want to admit his whole being had shouted for him to stop Rhys from destroying the shard.   
“Good.” Rhys also smiled, the two sharing another kiss, Rhys pulling him back down. 

Cal wasn't sure when their kissing had ended and he'd fallen asleep, but when he woke, the sun was up and he heard Rhys rummage around nearby, probably packing up. He stretched lazily, hearing Rhys chuckle.  
“Time to get up, sleeping beauty!” his cheerful voice rang into Cal's ears like a gentle stream down a hill. “Today is the day we face our fears!”  
“Well, one of us at least.” Cal mumbled, yawning. “Give me a minute.” 

After breakfast, Cal packed up his belongings, finding he lacked the space to take everything with him. Considering his options, Rhys came to stand behind him.   
“Are you really going to hoist your brother's skull along?” he frowned.   
“I don't know. I feel like I shouldn't bury him yet.” Cal admitted. “And the sheperd engraved him with this strange rune. It must have some significance.”  
“Okay maybe, but a skull isn't exactly small. It's going to take up space that you could use for rations.” Rhys argued. “Can't you just remake the rune and leave Fred in the altar? He'll be safe there.”   
“I doubt I can remake the rune as exact as this.” Cal mumbled. “I don't know Rhys.”  
“I know. Leave it here. I'm not letting you starve because you took a skull with you instead of food.” Rhys said, decisive. “It'll be perfectly safe in the altar, and all we need to do is destroy the shard. Then the rune will become obsolete, right?”

“I suppose you're right.” Cal sighed. He felt a pang of guilt when he carefully placed Fred in the altar and closed it back up. He employed one of the many things Fred had taught him, enchanting the altar with a magical lock that could only be opened by him. With a last regretful look, Cal swore he would be back as soon as he could. Odd as it might have sounded, it really felt like he was leaving Fred behind for real this time. Perhaps that was why he couldn't laugh at Rhys's jokes when they finally set off, Rhys leading the way. 

Rhys being Rhys, however, he didn't let up and no more than an hour later Cal and he were talking and laughing, the feeling of guilt faded into the background. But completely gone? No, it was never completely gone. 

They travelled for weeks, Cal learning more about the topside world with each passing day, soaking it all up eagerly. Sometimes, at night, he would still dream of the horrific events of that fateful day, but whenever he jolted awake, Rhys was always there to hush him, to support him and whisper him back to sleep. Over time, the nightmares got less frequent, and didn't always cause Cal to wake up anymore, though he doubted the memory would ever go away. 

On their journey, Rhys taught Cal to ride on a horse they'd hired, the gentle animal a perfect mount to take away Cal's fears of riding away. But that wasn't the only thing he learned from Rhys during their travels. He learned which wild plants were edible, and which ones didn't like being picked (the hard way). He learned how to behave in bars, markets and towns, how to stay unnoticed while hunting for food, and he really got to grips with himself and his poor physical condition, though it did improve as he now had regular and plentiful meals, plus frequent excersize. 

On other occasions, Cal experienced the general publics opinion of Drow, which was to say they wouldn't speak to him or just flat out insult him. Cal learned to deal with it slowly, but Rhys was the one who took the real offense, almost without fail starting a lecture on how looks could be deceiving and they shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. He even had a fistfight in the middle of a square over it once, winning quite easily, after which they'd been chased out of town. 

They'd laughed it off, but Cal worried that Rhys would've taken on the entire town if he hadn't convinced him to run instead. It made him realize just how much Rhys cared, and with that knowledge he felt secure in their blossoming relationship. So much so that he trusted Rhys to give him his first experiences in physical intimacy, the pair making love nearly every night, as young lovers do. Plus, Rhys noted, ever practical, that it saved them having to rent two rooms in the inns they visited. 

Cal didn't think he'd ever been happier.

Until they finally got close to Rhys's old home, and he became more quiet than Cal had ever seen him. A look of gloom lay permanently on that otherwise so cheerful face, Rhys becoming more irritable, worry dampening his mood. That's not to say he didn't try to hide it with his usual sense of sarcastic humor, but by now Cal knew him well enough not to fall for it. So he held his hand through the hours of doubt in the night, and did his best to tell him they'd be alright. 

On the day of their arrival in Qualinost, all Cal had heard were Rhys's stories. But the stories couldn't have prepared him for such beauty. The graceful architecture, the four spires joined by their silver inlaid bridges, which offered a gorgeous view over the city and forest around them. The forest seamlessly blended into the city, to the point where no definitive border existed. 

“Well here we are.” Rhys said, voice nervous. “My old home.”   
Cal didn't immediately reply, lost in the marvel of this newfound gem. Rhys chuckled.  
“Trying to catch flies, dear?”  
Cal closed his mouth with a clack of his teeth, but didn't stop looking around. “It's more beautiful than anything I ever imagined.” he said, quietly. “Words could never do it justice.”  
“Hey, what about me? I'm pretty spectacular.” Rhys joked, happy for the opportunity.   
“That's true.” Cal agreed with a cheeky grin. “Come, show me around. I want to see everything.”


	5. 5

The city was larger than Cal had even imagined from the stories. It was bright, glorious, pure. The complete opposite of the underdark. The streets were bustling with people, little shops lined up in the streets, selling high end products made by local craftsmen, clothes, food and even souvenirs. Cal promised himself he would buy at least one to remember this city by, but that thought quickly faded as Rhys pulled him into a pastry shop. Apparently this particular baker was famous for his very tiny cakes, of which they bought many. Snacking on them, they explored the city further, Rhys going through a lot of nostalgic moments, telling about his youth here in great detail. 

They eventually came to the palace, Rhys halting under the great arch that lead to the monumental square in front of the palace. The fountain in the middle rained water down the marble statue of a woman holding up a fish over her head, the woman beset from all sides by her muses, holding smaller fish that also spat a stream of water out of their mouths. Cal had never seen a more ridiculous fountain design. 

Rhys seemed daunted until Cal stood next to him and offered him the last of the tiny cakes, Rhys grinning and taking it. “Told you they were good.”  
“You weren't wrong.” Cal confirmed, licking the last of some whipped cream off his fingers. “You want to go in?”  
“I suspect we'll need to make an appointment to talk to the king.” Rhys said. “We can't just waltz in and announce me as the lost nephew of the previous king,”   
Rhys cringed while his last sentence sank in with Cal, who had been busy scooping crumbs from the empty box the cakes had been in. He stopped abruptly and snapped to look at Rhys.   
“Sorry.” Rhys groaned before Cal could say anything. “I couldn't- I didn't-”  
Cal casually threw the box into a cart of waste that passed them, frowning at Rhys.   
“So you are actually related to the dead king.”   
“Yes. I didn't think you'd actually come with me, so I- I lied.” Rhys cast his eyes down in shame. 

“And there was no time on the journey to this place you could have told me?” Cal asked. “Or did you just wait for it to come up in conversation?”  
“Cal, I'm sorry. I should've said something, but I didn't know how. I thought it might scare you away.” Rhys added that last part after some consideration, and with a slightly hoarse voice. Cal couldn't take the puppy dog eyed look in Rhys's eyes anymore, taking his hands.  
“Nothing could scare me away from you.” he said, assuringly. “I love you, Rhys.”  
“I love you too, and I know I should have told you.” Rhys sighed. “I'm sorry. But the rest of what I said was true. They murdered my parents in the dead of night and I managed to escape through some kind of miracle.”   
“So what does this mean, Rhys? Should we be scared?” Cal asked, uncertain.   
“Maybe. It's been a long time. They may have forgotten me.” Rhys shrugged. “But it's best to be careful until I know for sure. Call me Berenth from now on, when we're in public. And perhaps we can arrange some kind of glamour for you? I've already seen people looking at you strangely.”  
“I can take care of that, a glamour is easy. I just want to know if I should be watching for assassins or something.” Cal waved Rhys's comment about the glamour away.   
“For now, no. If anyone asks, we're two travelling mercenaries for hire, looking for work.” Rhys conjured up the plan and Cal nodded. It was a good lie, they did look like they could have been mercenaries.   
“Do you want a glamour as well?” Cal asked, focusing on the minor glamour amulet, one of the few things he'd taken from home. His mother sometimes wore it when she was still alive, enhancing her features. Cal used it now to change his skintone to a tanned caucasian, but nothing else. Without the ashy Drow skin, he looked perfectly elven and no one would bat an eye at him.   
“No, I'll make sure I don't stand out.” Rhys declined. “Come, we should at least make an appointment if we want to speak to the king at all. I'll show you to the city library after.” 

They only had time to look at the library fleetingly, because making the appointment took an unnecessary amount of time and they still had to find an inn that would have them for the expected time it would take them to get said appointment, namely two weeks. Apparently the king was a very busy man these days, so the two had to wait patiently for their turn. 

Cal didn't mind, it gave him time to search the library on the subject of Myrkul and the Crown of Horns, and when he wasn't doing that, he and Rhys explored the city together, always finding a nice spot to eat, talk or just quietly sit and enjoy eachother's company. They didn't find any clues as to how to destroy the shard, however, and there was more bad news. Cal could feel eyes on them sometimes, but he never saw them. 

He was headed for the library one morning, by himself. Rhys always did like to sleep in, and Cal liked spending some alone time at the library every now and then, even if he wasn't reading about Myrkul. He hadn't had the luxury of so many books at his disposal back in the underdark, and he took great comfort in reading now, the books taking his mind off of the currently developing situation. 

He was having nightmares as of late, different to the ones from before. They didn't focus on what had happened in the cathedral, but they all just showed Fred, sometimes disembodied, sometimes just the skin, sometimes it was the Fred from years ago, young and cheerful. But he always said the same thing.  
“Why did you abandon me, Cal? I'm trapped here, I can't get out. I can't help you.”  
He'd wake up sweaty, crying and feeling sick. He didn't know if Rhys had noticed, but he didn't wake up during these episodes and he never asked. And to be honest, Cal did not want to tell him. He was already feeling guilty for putting so much on Rhys in a time of troubles. Rhys was nervous about being back, took all precaution so they wouldn't get caught and was basically doing that all the time. He was looking out for them constantly, making sure they were safe. Cal did not want to bother him with even more things to worry about. 

A chill over his spine pulled him from his thoughts, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He was in the alleyway he always walked through on his way to the library. It was a little quieter than the main roads, but he realized now that made it the perfect spot for an ambush. He already saw the shadows stir, and felt the presence of someone behind him. He couldn't just set fire to everything, but he had other things at his disposal now, things learned from books on magic, and by watching the court mages train in front of the library. 

A snap of his fingers and he blended into the shadow the thieves called their home, because after all, had any of them ever lived in the darkest shadows like he had? He smirked as he watched them become confused, slipping past them quietly and unnoticed, using his Drow nature as his defense. At least it was good for something, he caught himself thinking. He could have ambushed them instead, but decided to leave without causing a fuss. They did not want to draw attention to themselves and he wasn't going to ruin this for Rhys. 

He skipped going to the library, instead slinking back to the inn they were staying at and waking Rhys to tell him what had happened.   
“An ambush? Were they thieves? Assassins? Did they hurt you?” Rhys checked Cal for injury, but Cal shook his head.   
“I used a little magic to sneak away. They were none the wiser.” Cal smiled deviously.   
“That's my Cal.” Rhys smiled proudly, pecking a kiss to Cal's cheek. “Did you see their clothes?”  
“I did, they looked more outfitted than usual street thieves, but not covert enough for assassins.” Cal said, recalling their uniforms. Rhys looked worried.   
“We'll need to be more careful from now on. Thankfully the appointment is tomorrow.” Rhys sighed. “Perhaps we should stay inside today, and travel to the palace together in the morning.”  
“If you think it's best.” Cal reluctantly agreed. He did not like being cooped up inside, but he knew it was for his own safety.   
“I know you don't like staying inside.” Rhys said, as if he was reading Cal's thoughts. “Me neither, but I won't risk you being killed.”  
“What do you think will happen after the appointment?” Cal asked.   
“It could go either way, really.” Rhys contemplated. “But no matter what happens, I'll make sure you're taken care of. I promise.”  
“I know.” Cal sighed and got up, picking up the book he'd borrowed from the library and flinging himself onto a chair on the other end of the room. 

“I'm going out for some supplies. Be right back.” Rhys muttered, after he had dressed up. Cal just nodded, waiting until the door closed to sigh. He was exhausted from the lack of sleep, his head aching with the worries. He could use a proper meal, so he got up and headed for the bar, ordering lunch with a good cup of tea. The tea was homebrewed, with herbs from the beer garden out back. Cal had developed an addiction to tea since he'd escaped the underdark, and this was the best tea he'd tasted yet, closing his eyes and enjoying the way it warmed his body. 

When he'd finished, he returned to the room, finding the door open. Had Rhys come back? Cal stepped inside, but didn't expect to see a hooded figure rummaging through their stuff. It didn't appear they had noticed him yet.  
“Can I help you?” Cal frowned, hands already glowing with fire and positioning himself for battle.   
A yelp, and the person shot upright, pulling out two curved blades in the blink of an eye. Cal stood ready, but the thief did not attack.   
“Where is the shard?” a feminine voice asked.   
“Wouldn't you like to know.” Cal said, narrowing his eyes. How did she know about the shard?  
“Don't play games with me, Drow.” the woman hissed. “I see through your little disguise.” she gestured at Cal's glamour amulet.   
“Then I have nothing to say to you.” Cal prepared to hurl the brimming fire at her, but she was lightning quick and jumped over the bed, tackling Cal and slamming him against the wall roughly. A blade pressed against his throat and he looked into a set of furious amber eyes.  
“I won't ask again. Where is the shard?” she said, demanding. Cal however was focused on something else.   
“Who are you?” he tried to figure out why she looked so familiar.   
“None of your business. You already escaped me once I won't let you slip again. For the last time, where is the shard?” the woman pressed the sword closer to his throat.   
Cal reached into his pocket and showed her the shard, the woman inching back slightly. She hesitated, then took the shard and dumped it into a bag. 

“I don't think so, thief.”

The woman froze at the sound of Rhys's voice, keeping the blade at Cal's neck.   
“Would you really endanger your latest plaything, dear Rhysand? Just to get back at me?” she hissed. Rhys held his bow strained on her, Cal processing what she had just said. She knew Rhys.   
“Let him go.” Rhys said, grinding his teeth.   
“It's fine. I have what I need.” the woman looked at Cal again with a strange look, perhaps pity? But before Cal had a chance to look closer she vanished in thin air, a shadow slipping through the window and clattering it shut. 

Cal hadn't noticed he'd been holding his breath until he finally relaxed, Rhys coming up to him.  
“Are you alright?” he asked, looking him over.  
“Yes but- she took it, Rhys.” Cal said, annoyed, dissapointed in himself.  
“It's okay, Cal. We can get it back. What matters is that you're alive.” Rhys smiled with relief.   
“Who was she? She knew your name.”  
“It seems they've noticed our presence. And that they have not forgotten me.” Rhys sighed. “I'm sorry that that put you in danger. But they should ease off now they have what they wanted.”  
“You think?” Cal asked, vaguely aware Rhys had not answered his question.   
“I'm pretty sure.” Rhys nodded. “Are you sure you're alright?” Rhys's hand examined Cal's neck, where the blade had been.   
“I'm fine.” Cal confirmed. “Do we still just show up tomorrow?”  
“Of course. This'll strenghten our case, if we twist the truth a little bit.” Rhys grinned casually. “After all, why else would assassins already be after me if it wasn't for my royal blood?”  
Cal quietly contemplated the option, nodding slowly. He didn't really agree but they were too close to stop now. He ignored the gut feeling that told him something wasn't right. Something was very very wrong, but he couldn't begin to guess at what. Rhys must have noticed in his body language, two fingers taking Cal's chin before a kiss was pecked onto his lips. 

“We'll be okay, Cal.” Rhys said, voice as warm as ever, though that warmth did not reach up to his eyes. Cal smiled back.  
“I know.” he nodded. Rhys turned away to check if anything else was gone, leaving Cal torn between his thoughts. They tidied up the room and passed the time with a few boardgames until nightfall, Cal relaxing more over night, becoming more convinced that perhaps the thieves would really leave them alone now, even if that meant the shard was gone. 

At night, he couldn't sleep at all, the nightmare haunting him even when he was only lightly slumbering. Thankfully Rhys didn't sleep much either, ridden with worries, and so they spent all night whispering and passing the time entwined in a passionate embrace, taking their minds off the task ahead. 

However, morning arrived mercilessly and they both had to face the monumental task of rolling out of bed. Cal found to his surprise that he'd actually managed to get a little bit of undisturbed sleep, waking up with Rhys's fingers in his hair.   
“Morning.” Rhys's voice was one that did not get any sleep whatsoever, dark circles under his eyes.   
“Mhmm.” Cal was never very wordy in the morning, but today's task had him struggling to think of something to say that wasn't about that. For a few minutes, they laid there, the sun peeking through the wooden shutters little creaks, shining onto their bed. Cal spent almost all of them just looking at Rhys's face, that was unnaturally handsome even with all the signs of stress. He imprinted this moment into his mind, remembering every detail of his face, the freckles, the way his mouth curved, the way his messy curls fell over his eyes, everything. 

“Come on.” Rhys smiled. “Let's get up. Don't want to make the king wait.”  
“I'd make him wait forever if it meant this moment would last longer.” Cal said quietly. Rhys was caught off guard, jolting slightly but then his grin widened. A tender kiss landed on Cal's forehead.  
“Me too. But I'm not quite rich enough to pay the fine that's on not showing up for an official regal hearing.” Rhys chuckled. He scooted off the bed, Cal sighing.  
“Oh, I bought some things you should wear. Our usual gear would be too casual for his royal highness.” Rhys said the last words with so much spite Cal stifled a giggle.   
“It's a little impractical but that's fashion for you.” Rhys threw the clothes on the bed, Cal examining them. 

It could have been worse, all things considered. It was very much elven fashion, long and elegant and it seemed so light it nearly floated. Cal got into the breezy underclothes, white cotton shirt and brown woolen tights, then draped the accompanying robe over those, the slit of the robe starting at his thigh, the leg cut in a graceful curve that made his legs look even longer. The thigh high boots completed the look, Cal plucking at the tights tentatively. This garment was too pretty for him. It was classy, well made and spoke of power and wealth. None of which described him very well.   
“You look good, Cal. Don't worry.” Rhys smiled, seeing Cal's tentativeness.  
“So do you. Very regal.” Cal smiled, and he wasn't lying. 

Their walk to the palace was reasonably normal, except the fact they drew a few curious stares from locals. Their clothes did stand out a lot, and Cal was glad when they arrived at the palace, where they blended right in. He secured the glamour amulet under his robe before going inside, making sure it was working. 

The palace was more grand than he could've imagined, the white marble reaching seemingly all the way up the sky, inlaid with arches of gold. A light green carpet was rolled out over the path, easily 12 feet wide. Mirror lined the walls, shaped into the same arches as the roof and lined with gold. Vanity, wealth and power all shamelessly on display. Just like in the cathedral and palace in the underdark. Even the architecture was slightly similar. Built to impress, to show how important those who lived there were. 

The throne room was even more impressive, the large doors inlaid with a large mosaic of an angel crowning an unknown monarch. Cal had never felt more out of place than here, with the royal guards staring him down, the king on his throne in front of them, separated only from them by a huge set of stairs. 

They kneeled as Rhys had explained, on their right knee and with their eyes looking down at the floor. The green carpet rustled with his movement and Cal realized it wasn't made of mere sheep's wool. It was so soft he suspected Alpaca, or perhaps even Cashmere. 

“Rhysand.” 

The king's voice. Alarmed, but not surprised. Before Cal could even properly get to his feet again, he noticed Rhys hadn't kneeled. He was standing with his bow trained on the king. Cal was too stunned to react immediately, and even if he hadn't been, what happened next all happened so fast he could never have anticipated it.

Without hesitation, Rhys released an arrow and it hit the King right in between the eyes, penetrating his skull with such force it nailed it to the throne behind him. The sickening crack echoed through the throneroom and then silence, only a few moments before a storm of violence began. 

Guards started to fight other guards, Rhys running up the stairs to help them. Cal had already activated his shield, but it came way to easy to him to slink back into the shadows. It was a natural instinct, he realized, watching from the cover of a pillar. What the fuck was going on? A coupe? Rhys had just shot the king. Straight up murdered him. Had this been his plan all along? He heard shouting and dying screams, seeing how the younger looking guards were gaining the upper hand in the fight. Wether or not they were on Rhys's side, he had no idea.

A loud bang and a crackle of magic took his focus away from the fighting guards. A blonde elven woman had bursted in from the doors behind the throne, and everything about her screamed 'powerful mage'. He waited to see what she would do, her eyes and hands radiating power. He soon had his answer. She stood next to Rhys and grinned at him with a knowing glance. Allies then.   
Just how long had Rhys spent preparing this? And why had he not told him anything?

His eye fell on what the sorceress next to Rhys was wielding as her weapon. A staff, curved and graceful, a gem in the carving. No, not a gem. The obsidian shard. How was that possible? It was the same one, Cal had no doubt about that. It called to him. 

'I'm here, Cal!' Fred's voice. 

The woman cast an immense flamespout, incinerating several of the guards still fighting. Cal heard people bash on the closed door of the throne room, trying to get in, shouting for the King, but magic had sealed the door shut. 

As the last of the old guard fell, the throne room once again became quiet, only the sounds of soldiers taking their last breaths filling the air.   
“It is over. Arnand is dead.” Rhys said loudly. “I, Rhysand of house Sunwrought shall take his place.”  
The guards cheered for their new king. Of course they did. He'd probably promised them all the gold and status in the world. They had that horrid greedy look in their eyes, just like the nobles he'd slaughtered in the Underdark.   
“What of the Drow?” the sorceress spoke.   
“Ah, almost forgot.” Rhys grinned. “You can come out now, Cal.”

Cal forced his hands to stop shaking before he stepped out of hiding, slowly approaching the stairs.   
“Rather impressive don't you think? And it's all thanks to you.” Rhys gestured at him and then at the shard.   
“Hooray for me.” Cal said, sarcastically. “Is this what you'd planned all along?”  
“Mouthy. And handsome too. I see why you didn't kill him.” the sorceress smirked, a hand on Rhysand's arm. The way she touched him and looked at him spoke volumes. The two were a pair.  
“Dear Cal, let me explain.” Rhysand smiled slyly. “Yes, I'd planned this all along. But I couldn't have done it without you. And as it turns out, I still have need of you, since you didn't die in this battle, like our poor King did.” and like he expected. He didn't say those words exactly, but Cal heard it in his voice. Rhysand descended the stairs and stood in front of Cal. 

“Get to the point.” Cal couldn't help the growl.   
“I really only needed the shard, to give Synessa the power required to stage this coup, but since you were so wonderfully co-operative, I decided against killing you. You know, no one really likes Drow here. I'm sure they won't have any objections if I tell those poor worried civillians that a crazed Drow wizard broke in and murdered our beloved King.”   
“A wizard that wielded a bow? Those are rare.” Cal relied on his sarcasm to make him look unfazed. He wouldn't give Rhysand the pleasure of seeing all the pain that was wrecking him from the inside out. Rhysand snarled, his hand slipped around the chain of Cal's glamour amulet and snapped it so hard Cal was nearly torn to his knees. Rhysand laughed softly, demeaning. The amulet shattered on the floor, the shards reflecting the roof of the throne room, angels looking down from their stoic mosaics.   
“Oh you're ever so naïve, dear.” Rhysand chuckled. “Guards, seize him.”

Cal did not resist the chains they tied around his wrists, instead looking on while the sorceress, Synessa, pulled the arrow from the King's crumpled skull and placed a large glacial spike of her own make in the premade hole instead. She smiled her flirty smile at him before he was torn away, dragged down into the dungeons.


	6. 6

The dungeons were damp, cold and definitely unsuited for the kind of clothes he was in. He was shivering, miserable and sad, trapped in this room of solid stone, enchanted to stop any kind of magic from being cast. That was his luck too, because they'd at least removed the chains that had been on his wrists, and this prison was marginally nicer than the other ones. As in, there were no rotting corpses inside it like the other ones.

Cal's blood boiled, but for hours after his capture, the only thing he could do was sob and be angry with himself. He should've seen this coming, he should've listened to that gut feeling from yesterday. He'd been such a fool. He'd been used, taken advantage of like so many times before. Why did he even think it'd be any different here? Stupid, naïve, fool. 

“You done wallowing yet?” 

Cal gasped at the voice that was right up at his prison door. But when he looked he saw merely darkness. Yet the voice sounded familiar.   
“Don't let it get to you. All he ever does is use people.”   
A woman stepped out of the darkness and Cal recognized her immediately. The thief from yesterday. She smiled at the recognition in his eyes.   
“Last person you'd expect here, huh?” she smiled, warm, friendly. No. Cal hardened his expression. He couldn't fall for the same tricks again. She looked at him again with that pitying look, shaking her head.  
“I don't blame you. I wouldn't trust me either.” she sighed. “I'm Morianna. And I know your name is Cal. I'm Rhysand's sister. The one he failed to kill.”

Cal's interest was piqued, but he shrugged off her comment with a little frown. “And?”  
“I'm not your enemy. Here.” Morianna took something from her pocket and threw it at him through the bars. “Your shard. It's fake, by the way. Rhysand probably stole yours the first night you got here and gave it to Synessa. She's been getting nowhere with it, I'm told from reliable sources.”  
“Well that's useless.” Cal sighed, playing with the shard in his hands. He could also tell it was a fake, it didn't feel warm in his hand, no power radiated from it. How had he not even noticed this before?

“It sure is.” Morianna agreed.   
“Go on then.” Cal sighed. “Elaborate on the 'i'm the one he failed to kill'.” he gestured impatiently and Morianna let loose a chuckle.   
“Just that. Rhysand's lust for power knows no limits. He uses everything and everyone to get what he wants. And now he's got it.” Morianna shrugged. “He killed our parents, I woke up before he could kill me and I stabbed him to get away. I ran, ended up with the velvet sisters. Thieves, assassins, spies, whatever you want to call them. They have close ties with the throne, doing the dirty work for them. The late king was our employer, but as you may imagine, Rhysand won't be quite so keen once he learns I'm part of the organisation.”

“What's this got to do with me?” Cal asked, done with talking around the problem.   
“If I get you the shard, can you kill Synessa?” Morianna obviously appreciated the direct approach, shifting her weight to her left leg with a grin. Cal raised his eyebrows, thinking over her question.   
“I don't know?” Cal honestly replied. “Maybe.”  
“Maybe is good enough for me at this point.” Morianna shrugged. “Will you work with us? We can't touch Synessa because of her magic, but she doesn't know you. She doesn't know your brand of magic. If you can take care of her, I'll take care of Rhysand.”  
“Wait, you want to kill him?” Cal frowned.   
“Yes. Rhysand is a dangerous man, Cal. I don't care who's King, but under his reign, everyone will suffer. Rich or poor, Elf, human or otherwise. His ambition is too big for this world.” Morianna looked mournful. “I know you loved him. I did too. Once, I knew him only as my little brother. The cheerful young elf that would one day be my advisor as queen. But the look I remember most is one of empty greed as he prepared to end my life.”

Cal felt a stab of pain in his chest at that sentence, realizing she had seen Rhysand's act of kindness just as he had. He had deceived both of them.   
“I'll help you.” Cal said, decisive. “Miss pouty lips has the shard anchored to her staff, so I don't know if you can get it, but if I can get close enough I might be able to call it to me.”  
“Is it attuned to you?” Morianna asked.  
“Yes, I believe so. Though I have no idea how or why. I was never really taught any magic.” Cal admitted carefully. Morianna looked at him with disbelief.   
“Really? You came all this way with no magic knowledge?”  
“Well, I do know a few things. Like how to dissapear.” Cal grinned in reference to their earlier encounter. Morianna chuckled, half amused, half desperate. 

“Right, okay. Well.” she sighed. “I'll break the lock for you, but don't come out until you hear the bells starting to ring. It'll be chaos in the throne room but all you need to do is distract Synessa long enough for me to take out Rhysand.”   
“I can do that. Beats dying in this shithole.” Cal shrugged. “What about after?”  
“I'll make sure there's an escape moment for you. We've spent months preparing this plan.” Morianna said, craftily disabling the lock of the prison.   
“Months?” Cal asked, resisting the urge to run out the door and never look back.   
“We knew Rhysand was up to something. We prepared for the worst, and I'm glad we did.” Morianna said. Cal nodded in understanding. 

“Right. Here.” Morianna pulled a dagger from her belt. “Hide it in your boot. If it's a proper boot it'll have a little patch for it.”   
Cal took the dagger and did indeed find a small spot designed for just such a dagger. Satisfied, Morianna nodded. “I'll see you tonight.”   
“I sure hope so.” Cal mumbled, as he watched Morianna slip away into a sideway. 

Alone once again, Cal thumbed the fake shard, contemplating what lay ahead. What else was there to do? He just hoped to all the gods alive or dead that they'd succeed.

He must have dozed off, because he woke up to the sound of the palace bells shaking the very foundation of the city. He veered up from the uncomfortable wooden bench and sprung into action, carefully checking for guards before he left his prison, feeling the magic seal fall away. He was free, free to do whatever he wanted, he could have left, if he cared to. 

But why would he? Morianna had helped him, and he could at least return the favour. Besides, he still wanted his shard back. So he ran up the stairs the way the guards had dragged him in, realizing it must've been at well into the night, seeing the darkness outside a window he passed on the way. This could very well kill him, and he knew that, but he didn't care. Anything was better than rotting down in a dungeon. 

Encountering no guards, he reached the side entrance to the throne and listened for a moment. It sounded like they were already fighting inside, Cal opening the door quietly and slipping in to pick a good position for himself.

He saw Morianna fight against a group of guards, aided by her sisters in arms. The velvet sisters were silent, deadly weapons, everything about them spoke of their skill in combat, from their elegant swords down to their armour, they were a force to be reckoned with. They'd already taken down several guards, and Rhysand was sitting on his throne, rather unfazed, just watching. He looked bored, most of all. 

Cal repressed a disgusted noise to remain undetected, seeing Synessa stand next to the throne, her staff calmly in hand. She'd cast a protective shield over the two of them, that Morianna couldn't dispel, as she had explained before. Synessa was expecting her, had taken precautions against her magic. 

But not against Cal's. He could almost feel the shard sing with joy at his presence, as if it was saying; “Yes, I'm here, come get me!”

Cal smiled at the warm feeling in his chest, so familiar and comforting. He opened his hand and beckoned it, and that was all he really needed to do.   
“Excuse me.” he coughed, while the shard fought it's way out of Synessa's staff and flew into his hand. “I think that belongs to me.”

Synessa looked flabbergasted for a moment, looking at Rhysand for guidance. Rhysand looked as surprised as her, but it didn't last long. Cal knew him well enough to see that little glimpse of fear in his eyes before he steadied himself, and Cal took great pleasure in it, a smirk playing around his lips.   
“Now, come on Cal. You don't want to do this- Imagine what you and I could achieve? Your power and my smarts, we'd be unstoppable.” Rhysand said, trying to be smarmy.   
“You had your chance.” Cal shook his head. “I know what you did. Your own family? Really?”  
“You have no right to judge what I've done, murderer.” Rhysand hissed.   
“You call me a murderer?” Cal's voice wavered. He felt the sadness in this very hall, the betrayal, the presence of people who'd died to Rhysand's hand. 

“The people he killed, they want vengeance.” Fred's voice whispered from the shard. “Release them. You're the only one who can.”

Cal felt the power of the shard pulsating in his hand, how it connected to the unseen spirits that were starting to take shape slowly. He did feel their rage, their pain.   
“What are you doing?” Rhysand said, nervously. “Synessa, stop him!”  
Synessa lifted her staff over her head to interrupt the magic forming around Cal, but a furious roar interrupted her. Morianna jumped Synessa from behind, pulling her back and disarming her. The two women broke into a fierce fight, Cal continuing to focus on the fury that was taking shape. 

“Cal, please calm yourself. You're overwhelmed, I get it. But such power is left better to the ones who know how to handle it.” Rhysand said, talking to him like was talking to a five year old that was having a tantrum. Cal growled, feeling his upper lip curl back in a feral instinct, showing his teeth aggressively. When he spoke it was more like a transcendant hiss.   
“Don't talk down to me. You've used me and betrayed me. No more.” 

Fueled by his own fury, Cal saw the spirits appear, solidifying in front of him, skeletal figures, ethereal but somehow tangible. They were here through him, through his power. None of this was coming from the shard. Rhysand inched back, but Cal didn't give him the option to flee, a magic chain appearing that held Rhysand in place on his throne. 

Rhysand frantically tried to break the bonds, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't move an inch. The spirits grew restless, starting to claw at Rhysand's presence, desiring Cal's guidance. Cal looked at Rhysand, realizing that not even a day ago, he'd been comitted to this man with his whole heart, mind and body. But did he feel remorse for him as he sat there, growing increasingly more terrified? No, not really, he realized. Rhysand had just used him as a tool, manipulated his feelings by making him think he loved him. Everything Rhysand had ever told him was a lie. Cal had been a plaything, nothing more. So he lifted his hand and gave the spirits the direction they needed, pointing at Rhysand. They crept forward towards the throne, their icy hands finding Rhysand's feet and hoisting themselves up. One screeched viciously, it's jaw unhinged and passing through Rhysand's face. Rhysand shrieked, and Cal watched as he panicked, trying to get away yet again. The spirits couldn't really hurt him, but he was surrounded by the face of death, of those he killed in his conquest for the throne. The spirits fury emanated from their wailing cries, echoing against the marble. 

“What's the matter Rhys?” Morianna panted as she stood next to Cal. “Can't talk your way out of this one?”  
Cal smirked at her and she grinned, brushing her red curls out of her face. She was tired from battle, but a glance to his left revealed she had defeated Synessa, who was now lying motionless on the floor a few yards away, in an ever growing pool of blood. 

“Should I kill him?” Morianna asked Cal.   
“Hold on, just a moment.” Cal said, watching on as the spirits tormented Rhysand, who was screaming desperately. He remembered this moment, imprinted it in his mind. Once he would have given this man everything. Now his screams did nothing to him but incite a sense of pride.   
“Please, please, please let me go!” Rhysand begged. “Please, for all that we had once- please!”  
Cal sighed, rolling his eyes but urging the spirits back. This was Morianna's victory. She deserved the final decision. Rhysand was crying and panting, still locked tightly in place in the chains on his throne. 

“Your call.” Cal said, nodding to Morianna, who smiled gratefully at him.   
“You can't like, petrify him or something, make him a statue to remember our past mistakes by?” she suggested, Cal chuckling.   
“Sadly, no.”   
“Sister, please-” Rhysand sobbed. “I'm sorry.”  
“It's a bit late for remorse, Rhysand.” Morianna's expression remained stone cold, her dagger solid in her hand.  
“Rhysand of house Sunwrought, I hereby formally accuse you of treason, for killing the king and queen of Qualinost, and by the right granted to me by my royal blood, as princess Morianna of house Sunwrought, I hereby sentence you to death.” She'd spoken loudly, clearly. 

Cal made sure he watched, made sure when Rhysand looked at him in desperation, his expression would speak the volumes of his rapidly beating heart. I won't interfere.   
“Cal, please- I- I loved you, I did. That wasn't a lie-”  
“Yes, it was.” Cal nodded at Morianna when she looked back with a question in her eyes. “Everything we had was a lie.” Cal felt a chill at the stonecold tone of his own voice. Rhysand's desperation changed to anger.   
“You wanted to be used, Cal. You wanted to be guided. It was so easy to lie to you. To use you.” Rhysand's voice was a low growl and Cal felt his fingers tremble around the shard.   
“Just like you used me and our parents to rise to power.” Morianna hissed. She lifted the dagger and the blade shimmered in the reflection of Rhysand's eyes. He opened his mouth to scream, but   
Morianna plunged her dagger into his heart, his expression one of pain and fear. He deserved this, Cal told himself, but he couldn't help the pang of guilt and pity that took possession of his heart when Rhysand took his last breath. The light in his eyes died out like the embers of a dying fire, their cheerful spark lost forever. 

“You could have been a beacon of hope.” Morianna whispered.   
Cal cast his glance down in respect, Morianna obviously saddened by what she had done. When he looked up again, he noticed the great doors to the palace were opened, and they had been watched by quite a crowd. Mostly civilians, but also a few guards, who were shuffling around nervously. Some turned and ran, the traitors who had helped Rhysand commit the coupe. 

Most though, came forward carefully. The spirits of the dead still lingered, looking toward Cal. As did most of the onlookers and Morianna. Cal sighed, sensing the desire of release all around him.   
“Their oath still binds them here.” Cal quietly said to Morianna. Morianna understood, nodding.  
“I release you from your oath. Go in peace.” she spoke, saluting them. An air of relief filled the throne room as the spirits dissapeared in a gust of smoke, their tormented existance finally at an end. Cal nodded gratefully at Morianna, who stood in front of Rhysand's dead body. She took the crown from his head gently, holding it above her own. 

“My brother killed my parents, your former king and queen, and now again our beloved king, my uncle. Then claimed his title falsely, by using and corrupting the system. I shall restore order to this city and fill my uncle's shoes, if you will take me as your queen.” she announced. The unified cheer didn't leave any doubt as to the crowd's opinion, Morianna lowering the crown onto her head. 

A respectable silence fell as the subjects kneeled for her and she looked a little bewildered when she shot Cal a look, looking for support. Cal shrugged, then bowed flamboyantly. Morianna smiled warmly at him, the smile of a friend. Cal returned it, standing upright once more, as did the people in the crowd.   
“My first order as Queen shall be to raise this man into honourable citizenship of Qualinost. Without his help, we could not have done this.” Morianna gestured at him. “Let him be a beacon for those outcast, that honour and strenght of spirit will always prevail.”   
Cal felt his heart pound in his throat as people looked towards him all of a sudden. Thankfully, Morianna distracted him from the looks by putting a hand on his arm, making him turn towards her. He bowed lightly, mumbling a thank you. 

“Rise. You will never bow to anyone ever again, Cal.” Morianna said, smiling proudly. “Will you stay a few days more? To help me sort things out here? I could use a friend.”  
“I would be honoured.” Cal nodded, and he meant it.   
“Then let it be known from now on that you are my confidant and advisor.” Morianna announced. “My second order as Queen is that we really need to clean up this mess.” she gestured to the remnants of the battle that had taken place here. Cal saw no more sign of the velvet sisters anywhere, but perhaps this was what Morianna had wanted. She'd been one of them for a long time, after all. 

Joining forces, the people started clearing out the throne room and then the entrance hall to the palace. Bodies were taken to the city morgue, apart from Rhysand's, which was taken to a private room in the palace, Morianna and Cal following the carriers through a grand corridor,

“I did not foresee this outcome.” Morianna said, quietly. “I was hoping, a small part of me was begging for him to come to his senses. That he'd be my little brother again, as I remembered him from before.”  
“You had no other choice, Morianna.” Cal said, earnestly. “If you'd locked him up he would've found a way to escape and try again.”  
“You're right. And still.” Morianna smiled sadly. Cal knew what she meant. He'd hoped the same, but he knew better. 

The room they brought Rhysand to was quiet, sheltered from the outside world by thick curtains that hung in front of large windows, Cal peeking through to see where they were. It appeared to be at the rear of the castle, bordering on the large gardens. The servants who'd carried the body laid Rhysand on the stone altar in the middle of the room, and Morianna folded his hands onto his chest, closing his eyes as the servants left with a respectful bow. 

“Should I leave you alone for a moment?” Cal asked quietly.   
“It's alright. You probably knew him better than I did.” Morianna sighed, taking a chair to sit down and rest for a moment. She patted the chair next to her, Cal gladly obliging. He was weary too, and wanted really nothing more than to sleep.   
“I don't think I really knew him at all, if I'm honest.” Cal said quietly. The last words that Rhysand had said had wounded him, because he knew it was true. He was so eager to be lead, to be safe and with purpose, that Rhysand had spun his tales and Cal had swallowed them without question.

“What was he like, the last couple of weeks?” Morianna asked, her voice so fragile that speaking louder would've broken it. Cal opened his hand for her to lay hers into, which she did. He squeezed it gently and smiled. Morianna's amber eyes had big black circles under them, the crown awry on her wild curly hair. Cal gently pushed it straight again while he thought about what he should say. 

“Apart from preparing to commit treason, I think he was happy. We- I don't know if it was genuine, but we went out in town a lot, spent quality time.” Cal pondered what it all meant now, but perhaps it was as simple as this. “We enjoyed ourselves. We joked and laughed and ate a whole box of tiny cakes at least 2 times a week.” Morianna gasped.  
“From Ferdinand! Those are the best!” she laughed. “The strawberry citrus ones are my favourite!”  
“I like the Vanilla passionfruit better, but you're not wrong.” Cal agreed. “I just- I don't know if any of it was ever real.”

Morianna looked like she understood, and having gone through what she had, she probably did. In the silence that fell, they both sighed deeply, exhausted.  
“You know, I'd ask for the rest of your story but frankly, I'm too tired.” Morianna sighed. “Want to call it a day? You can use Synessa's quarters.”  
“You're going to have to direct me.” Cal said, rubbing his eyes.   
“Let's see if I remember.” Morianna groaned as she got up. 

She lead him up a set of stairs that lead to a secluded hallway, two enormous rooms on either side. One was the regent's, the other was the archmage's quarters. Morianna showed him into the archmage's chamber, and Cal didn't even consider going back to the inn they'd stayed at. He saw a bed and fell into it, tired from all the emotions and magical energies that still coursed through his veins. He vaguely registered a shape flopping down next to him, but he already drifted off before he could see more, sleep taking his mind hostage.


	7. 7

When he woke up, he had to blink and think really hard on where he was. The white marble on the ceiling made his eyes hurt, Cal squinting to look around. When he saw the grand room, round and richly decorated with gold, bronze and tones of the royal colours, he remembered yesterday. He groaned as the memory shot through him, Cal rubbing his eyes. 

“Oh good, you're awake.” Morianna's voice greeted him from the doorway. Cal looked up and couldn't have thought of a way she'd look more different to yesterday if he'd tried. She was wearing a queenly gown, dark green with golden stitching, it made her look taller than she actually was.   
“Awake is a bit of an overstatement.” Cal smiled, feeling his body ache from yesterday's activities.   
“You look great, though. Like you didn't just yesterday conquer the throne.”  
“Thank you.” Morianna chuckled. “I found the gown in the wardrobe, I assume it was once my mother's, though I've never seen her wear it.”   
“It suits you.” Cal said, getting up and stretching. “What time is it?”  
“Way past breakfast. Or brunch.” Morianna casually informed him. “I've already had a meeting with the council members that Rhysand had imprisoned. Everything is moving along.”  
“Sorry, I guess I should've been there.” Cal sighed.   
“It's alright. I've had to explain your role in this, and they're still not to keen on you being here, but once they've spoken to you, I'm sure they'll warm up. Tonight is another meeting, we have a lot to discuss, after all. I would like you to be there.” Morianna explained. “A Drow in court is unheard of, so I have no doubt there'll be questions. Be ready.”  
“I will be.” Cal confirmed. 

It was about as bad as Cal had expected. That night, he sat next to Morianna in the council room, and the council members were all at least suspicious of him. And although he wore the right clothes and hairstyle, he had never felt more out of place anywhere. He knew nothing of politics, didn't particularly care to learn about them either. He was here to support Morianna, but now it seemed the roles were reversed, Morianna more than once speaking up for him, reminding the advisors of their place. But never the less, at the end of the meeting, things seemed more relaxed, and Cal's sense of humor had in fact lightened the mood a little, the glares towards him had stopped and some council members were actively chatting with him, curious as to how he'd got here. He told them nothing but the truth, even if it did hurt. 

When dinner was served, the official meeting was over and it devolved into something more casual, Cal deliberately sticking with the people that had been chatting to him before, rather than burden Morianna with his presence. He was sure she had something better to do than defend his honour the whole time. One of the council members was particularly friendly and interested, a tall elven man with long blonde hair that cascaded over his shoulders, glowing with gold in the light. 

He introduced himself as the arcane expert of the court, and Cal thought he saw intense sadness in his chartreuse green eyes when the man told him about how he had taught Synessa everything.  
“Oh, but I forget my manners. I've not even told you my name yet.” the man gasped, putting his wine down. “My name is Sarlen. Sarlen of house Sundown.” he bowed lightly for Cal, which surprised him so much he couldn't really think of what to say.   
“It's a pleasure.” he managed to counter, more as a reflex than anything. Sarlen smiled and stood upright again, examining Cal's face closely.   
“You look quite young, if I may be so bold.” Sarlen remarked, his eyes holding Cal's gaze for a moment. Cal didn't think he'd ever seen such vibrant eyes before, ranging from deep honey to sun dried grass.   
“You may. I've only just turned 70, after all.” Cal shrugged.   
“And Drow age the same way elves do?” Sarlen asked, intrigued.   
“I believe so, though I honestly wouldn't know for certain.” Cal admitted.   
“Fascinating. And your eyes, is this violet colour a common occurrence in your people?” Sarlen said, leaning in closer. Cal felt his cheeks warm a little, and he hoped it wouldn't show.   
“Yes, yes it is.” Cal mumbled, a little cautious.   
“Remarkable. And so beautiful, if I might say.” Sarlen took a new glass of wine off a tray that passed them, taking one for Cal as well. Cal took it and toasted with Sarlen carefully.   
“I'm delighted at the chance of teaching you.” Sarlen continued, catching Cal off guard.  
“What?”   
“Oh, I thought you knew. Morianna asked me if I could teach you in the ways of magic.” Sarlen said, surprised at Cal's reaction.   
“Oh. I see.” Cal said, glancing at Morianna, who was in a conversation with one of the financial ministers, too busy to notice him. Cal wondered what to say. He wanted to learn more, wanted to harness this power he had inside him. 

“I apologize. I've clearly put you at a disadvantage here.” Sarlen said, casting his glance down. “It's just, after Synessa, I-” Sarlen sighed. Cal saw a great deal of pain in his expression when he mentioned Synessa. There was an instinct inside him that compelled him to reach out, his hand lightly touching Sarlen's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Sarlen smiled, a sad smile but a grateful one too.   
“Don't mind me. I'm just a sentimental old man.” he waved Cal's concerned look away. “Before, Synessa was like a daughter to me. I didn't want to believe she was in league with Rhysand.”   
“I'm sorry.” Cal said. “I must appear ungrateful, but nothing could be further from the truth. I'm just- after everything that's happened, Rhysand- I have to be cautious.”  
“Of course.” Sarlen nodded. “I understand completely. Many people still believe you had an active role in Rhysand's coupe. Morianna has explained the circumstances to us, however, and I believe her. I served her mother and father, a hundred years ago, when she and Rhysand were still youngsters in training. When I look at you, I see what I saw in them. A youngster with uncanny potential, and I can't help but feel a little nostalgic. Synessa was a brilliant student, but I failed to see her shortcomings, her lust for power. To be given another chance..” Sarlen sighed with a certain desperation and Cal understood. Training him would be a chance to right his wrongs, a way to restore what was lost. 

“I don't know if I can commit to that.” Cal openly admitted. “I don't know how long I'll stay here.”  
“I know. But I would like to offer you my knowledge regardless. If nothing else, as a way to thank you for helping Morianna.” Sarlen said. “Think about it. I'll be in my office if you want to come and have a chat. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Sarlen bowed graciously, Cal doing the same before they both went their separate ways, Cal rejoining Morianna. 

The night passed by with a lot of pleasantries being exchanged and Cal couldn't possibly remember all the names he'd heard that night, not in the least because his thoughts were elsewhere. To be taught by an arcane expert could be the chance he'd been waiting for to learn more about his powers. There was only so much books could teach him, and even those he sometimes struggled with because of his self taught common. If he was to stay here for a longer period of time however, he didn't really know what that would mean. If people would even accept it, despite him being an honoured citizen now. He was still Drow, and that set him apart. The only ones who didn't really seem to mind were Morianna and Sarlen. 

That night he lay awake thinking about it, thumbing the shard and holding it up against the light of the stars that cast their light on his bed. He slept with the curtains opened, finding it a comforting thought to have the outside so close to his bed. Fred's skull was still in that shrine, in the back of his mind he felt it gnawing at him, a feeling that urged him to go and get it. But it wasn't the vessel for Fred's spirit. That was the shard itself. But somehow, the shard wasn't at full power without it. Cal could sense it. 

“Why didn't you accept?” Fred's voice entered his mind easily, Cal not being on guard. He had nothing to fear from his brother, after all.   
“I don't know.” he sighed, his hand firmly around the shard as he looked out to stars.   
“This was your dream. Learn about magic, Cal. It's what you were meant to do.” Fred said. “You were always more talented at it than me. What took me years to master you learned in a day. You have a knack for it. Don't waste this chance.”   
“I'm not sure I trust him.” Cal admitted. “Or anyone in this court, really.”  
“They're politicians, of course you can't trust them. But you know that now. Arm yourself against it and take from it what you can. You'll come out stronger than before.” Fred said, encouraging.   
“Perhaps you're right. What about your head though?” Cal asked.   
“My head's fine. No complaints.” Fred actually laughed, Cal's heart filling with the sound and a grin spreading across his face.   
“Alright then.” Cal decided. “I'll do it.”  
“Good. And I'll be with you, all the way.” Fred promised, before his presence faded. Cal shook his head with a soft chuckle, hiding the shard in the lining of his backpack that was under the bed before turning around and settling in for the night. 

The next morning Cal was up early, searching for Sarlen's office after he'd had breakfast. It was hidden quite well, in the maze of hallways and doors, but he eventually found it, tucked away in a far corner of the private library. The door lead to a large oval room, the edges filled with magical artifacts, and at the head of the room, a desk full of papers and books. A quill laid next to a blank parchment and the pot of ink was open, so Sarlen couldn't be far.

“Hello?” Cal called out, looking around. He heard some shuffling and noticed an open arch behind a bookcase.   
“Who is it?” Sarlen's voice came from the direction of the archway and Cal heard some rummaging.   
“It's Cal. I've come to talk to you about your offer.” Cal said, loud and clear. The rummaging became louder and more rushed.   
“Cal! Come in!” Sarlen appeared in the archway with a broad smile. “I'm glad you're here, forgive me, I haven't been up long.”   
“It's no bother.” Cal assured him, stepping further into the room.   
“Would you like some tea? Come, I've got the kettle on.” Sarlen gestured for him to follow into the archway, Cal stepping through into a small kitchenette, quaintly decorated. 

“Welcome to my little abode.” Sarlen smiled as he set down a cup of tea.   
“It's lovely. Much more homely the archmage's room.” Cal said, gratefully warming his hands on the cup. It'd been a bit of a chilly spring morning. Sarlen nodded.  
“She always did have a taste for the stately and rich.” he said. “Ambitious if nothing else.”  
Cal quietly nodded, not sure what to reply.   
“So what do you already know?” Sarlen asked, thumbing his own cup.   
“A few basics, a shield, fire, that sort of thing.” Cal said. “I can use the shield to conceal myself from prying eyes as well.”  
“That's quite complicated. Who taught you?” Sarlen asked.  
“My brother. He died on the eve of our escape.” Cal said quietly. “They caught him trying to sneak away.”  
“I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it must've been like. Losing your brother, escaping topside and then running into Rhysand. Luck wasn't on your side.” Sarlen said, sympathetically. 

“I thought it was, at least a little bit.” Cal sighed. “I made it out alive, despite everything. I fell in love, and learned so much about the world. I only found out it wasn't real when Rhysand betrayed me.” he didn't tell Sarlen about Fred's soul in the shard. Not yet.   
“And what you did with the spirits that were bound here by grief?” Sarlen asked. “Morianna told me about it, said the source of power came from you. You called them here.”  
“I don't know how. I was- furious. With Rhysand, with the injusitices he'd done. To me but also to his people, his own parents and sister.” Cal said, earnestly. “I could feel their hunger for retribution like it was my own.”   
“Hmm, fascinating. Absolutely remarkable.” Sarlen said, studying Cal again like he had last night.   
“You do that more often? Look at people like they're a specimen in your lab?” Cal frowned, but with a mild tone to his voice.   
“Oh, sorry.” Sarlen laughed apologetically. “I'm just intrigued. We don't know much about the Drow on a whole since they never seem to come up here.”  
“We're forbidden to. Unless we go by night to slaughter and steal and come back in the morning.” Cal scoffed. “I never went topside before I escaped.”  
“Tell me more.” Sarlen said. “I need to know where you're coming from if I'm going to be teaching you.” Sarlen explained before Cal could ask. 

Cal caved and told Sarlen his story, focusing on his life in the underdark, although he noticed talking about it was still something he struggled with. Sarlen seemed to understand, however, and patiently listened. 

3 cups of tea later Cal had told him everything he'd thought was important enough to share. Sarlen had a strange kind of look in his eyes, one of empathy and anger combined.   
“You've lived a difficult life. And Rhysand- I'm so sorry. If it helps, might I say that your feelings about him and everything you've gone through were at least real, even if his intentions were foul.” Sarlen actually snarled a little bit at the thought. “He was at fault for betraying you. But you overcame that. You're strong of spirit.”  
“Thank you.” Cal smiled. “I guess a lifetime of living in a shithole breeds that kind of resilience.”  
Sarlen chuckled. “I guess it does. And here you are.” he got up and gestured towards the oval room. “Shall we get started?”

Cal didn't think he'd ever trained this intensely with Fred before. Sarlen was firing spell after spell at him, all of them catching off of his shield and evaporating without doing damage. He wanted to see how strong he was, Cal realized. Wanted to see how much it would take to break him. At this pace, that wouldn't take long. Cal had foolishly thought he was already quite apt at magic, but Sarlen's magic was on a different level entirely. The power beat away at his shield, made it crack at the seams. Cal felt his powers strain to keep the shield going, his body tiring quickly. 

A blast of solid air dulled his hearing for a moment and the shield shattered, launching Cal backwards, where he landed ungently on the floor. Sarlen immediately stopped and hurried over to him to check if he was alright.   
Cal didn't feel secure enough in his movements yet that he dared to sit up straight, but he waved weakly at his new teacher.   
“That was pretty bad, huh?” Cal chuckled.   
“It was three times the abuse Synessa could take when she just started.” Sarlen said, genuinely impressed. “You've already made a great start by yourself.”  
Sarlen's enthusiasm was endearing to see, he was clearly excited about the prospect of training a new pupil. Cal smiled back, allowing Sarlen to help him back on his feet.  
“Now that I know where to begin, let's get you a few books to study in your off time, and then we'll continue to practice, but this time I want you to fire a couple of spells at my shield.” Sarlen already began browsing through the books, Cal dusting off his clothes. 

Turned out Cal had to read nothing short of a mountain of books, each lenghtier than the last. Sarlen simply teleported the books to Cal's room, and then they continued training, Sarlen challenging Cal to fire everything he had at him, at his shield, that was like a wall made out of diamond, over 500 years of magic experience had been poured into that wall and it showed. Cal wondered just how pathetic his own shield had to have looked like. 

“That's why I let my pupils go first in this excersize, otherwise they try to achieve something that just isn't within their power and will get discouraged.” Sarlen grinned at Cal's surprise. Had he just read his mind?   
“How'd you know?” Cal asked.   
“You're not the first one I've taught. Synessa was very displeased when she was confronted with it. She didn't even try to break it.”  
“I'm not displeased.” Cal frowned. “Just impressed, that's all.”   
“So do you want to try?” Sarlen asked.   
“Of course!” Cal said, almost offended. He wasn't going to back down without trying, that wasn't in his nature. “Get ready, old man.” he teased, Sarlen laughing heartily. 

As expected though, the wall didn't budge even a slight bit when Cal fired what little spells he knew at it. Cal wondered for a moment on what to try next, but they were disturbed by the door that opened, Morianna entering. Sarlen bowed for her and Cal followed his example. Morianna dismissed her guards and they left them alone, standing guard at the door outside.   
“My queen, I am honoured by your visit.” Sarlen said with a warm smile.  
“Cut it, Sarlen. You were my mentor for so long, I don't want you to treat me differently now that I'm queen.” Morianna sighed.   
“As you wish. Have you practiced in the years of your absence?” Sarlen asked.  
“Of course. But never as thoroughly as I did when you still tutored me.” Morianna smiled.   
“Then how about a reminder? Cal, you stand aside and observe.” Sarlen said, Cal sitting down at Sarlen's desk and looking curiously at Morianna when she took her place in the room.   
“Oh was he doing the wall thing?” Morianna frowned at Sarlen. “Don't let it throw you off. It took me years to break it.”  
“Fifty years, if I recall.” Sarlen said, the tone of voice nothing short of bragging. Cal chuckled, catching a wink from Morianna as the wall went up. 

Sarlen's wall was as strong as before, if not stronger. Morianna needed a few attempts, her magic obviously rusty, but eventually she did manage to crack and break the shield.   
“You've become sloppy.” Sarlen said with a dissapointed frown.  
“I had things on my mind!” Morianna defended herself. “Like you know-” she gestured at the space around them. “All this!”  
“Excuses, excuses, you've hardly changed.” Sarlen tutted, Morianna laughing. Cal grinned, seeing how well Morianna and Sarlen still knew eachother, despite all those years of losing contact.   
“Come on, I'll show you.” Morianna gestured Cal over. “Because he'll let you struggle with it for years if I don't. It's easy.”  
“Hold on, I won't let you teach him wrongly. Step aside.” Sarlen said, interfering. “Go conjure a shield for him to practice on. I will teach him. Properly.” Sarlen added, Morianna muttering something that resembled 'whatever old man.' She did however take position opposite Cal, Sarlen standing next to him and directing him. 

“To be able to determine the strenght of the shield, you have to undermine it's main source. In this case, that's Morianna's mind. But sometimes a shield comes from somewhere deeper. The heart, or even the spirit. Those are much harder to break. And the shield you conjured in the beginning was conjured with less than your mind. It was a natural reaction, but never trained.   
“So I should conjure it more consciously?” Cal wondered.   
“That's the first step to building a good shield, yes.” Sarlen said. “But for now just try and bypass her shield.”  
“Bypass? How?” Cal frowned.   
“Oh, throwing fire at it will maybe make it go away, but not all your problems go away by chucking fire at them. Where is Morianna's power coming from? Can you sense it?”  
Cal was a little confused, but remembered the feeling he'd had in the throne room, when the spirits reached out to him, the empathy coming naturally. He knew some of Morianna's feelings at least, remembering the moment they sat next to eachother in the morgue of the palace, her hand in his, her eyes so weary and sad. They had that moment in common and he used it to enter her mind, to meld into her consciousness, feeling the power of her mind that held the shield up. 

Morianna let out a high pitched yelp when her barrier shattered, the surprise on her face making both Cal and Sarlen laugh.   
“How did you do that?!” she shrieked, with a grin. “I didn't even feel you enter my mind!”   
“I'm real sneaky.” Cal teased, gesturing sneakily.   
“You are!” Morianna exclaimed, excited. “That was really good!”  
Sarlen took Cal by the shoulder and did one of his examining gazes again, as if he was trying to find out where this had come from. Morianna was still laughing when she pushed Sarlen away.  
“Personal space, old man.” she said. “Really though, that took me months to learn.”  
“Perhaps you picked it up unconsciously.” Sarlen said. “In any case, that's fantastic.”   
“Don't let it get to your head.” Morianna prodded Cal with her elbow, Cal chuckling.  
“I'll try.”


	8. 8

In the months after that, Cal studied with Sarlen, practicing magic every day, and they were frequently visited by Morianna, who had started to insist that they called her 'Mor' in private, something that made it all feel a little less formal, and perhaps that was why it was so easy for Cal to start considering her and Sarlen as friends, and perhaps even family. He didn't give that last thought a lot of time, because it felt wrong to refer to others as family when he communed with Fred's dead spirit almost every night. It was almost like he hadn't really died, and they didn't speak of what happened either. 

But he couldn't deny he did feel like he'd found a true family and perhaps even a home, despite all his caution, they kept proving they could be trusted again and again, and the long nights in Sarlen's office were Cal's favourite, where they consumed copious amounts of alcohol and the traditional tiny cakes from Ferdinands that Mor had ordered in. 

The royal court had gotten used to the sight of Cal and now actually did respect his position as advisor, sometimes laying problems out for him instead of Mor, to see if they were major enough to bring to the queen's attention. Morianna ruled with justice and fairness, and if there was an opposition to her, it was never big enough to make it into the royal court. Cal admired her for her strenght of mind, her energy, when it came to matters of ruling, something he would likely never understand. 

One night, after a long court meeting, she and Cal made their way to Sarlen's office as usual for a night of snacks and drinks. But when they arrived, Sarlen was instead focusing on something Cal had never seen. A universe of stars seemed to dance around the room, swirling around in his mind.   
“There you are.” Sarlen greeted them with a smile. “Cal, I believe it is time to show you something.”  
“Should I be scared?” Cal said, a little nervous. Sarlen shrugged.  
“Maybe. It's however essential that you see it. The world is bigger than you, me or Mor. Bigger than this city, bigger than this land. There's a world out there, brimming with magic. I've seen only parts of it, but I want to show you everything that I've seen.” Sarlen explained.   
“Alright.” Cal said. “And after that, I have something to show you, as well.”   
“Oh, full of surprises tonight.” Mor wiggled excitedly and very unqueenly. “I can't wait.” she took a seat at the desk and opened a bottle of red wine, pouring three glasses in advance.

“Come, take my hands. Let me connect to your spirit.” Sarlen said. He'd explained this before, but never showed it. Cal extended his hands, noting to himself they'd grown stronger with all the practice and better lifestyle he had now. Sarlen's hands were starting to look old, it was all too apparent next to his own young and smooth fingers, as opposed to the loosely skinned hands they held, that were slightly cold and littered with little elderly spots.   
“I know I'm old you don't have to look at my hands like that.” Sarlen snubbed, but he was only mildly offended. “It's all wisdom and experience!”  
“Of course it is.” Cal chuckled. “What did you want to show me?”

Sarlen steadied himself and the stars around them started to dance, magic starting to flow. Sarlen might have been old, but the stream of magic coming from his hands could have obliterated Cal if Sarlen had wished it. Cal knew it and shivered, feeling a calming squeeze to his hand. Sarlen would never hurt him, he knew, and he trusted him, banning the hint of fear at the back of his mind. He wasn't in any danger. 

And then suddenly the palace around them was gone and all he could see were stars, miles and miles of stars and galaxies, planets, meteor showers and above it all the flow of natural magic that drove it all. He saw the streamlined waves of pink, purple, gold and aqua intertwine and form arches around the planets, mapping out the universe. It was all connected, he realized. Magic was in the very fibres of the universe and it was vast, far bigger than anything else. They returned to the room, the stars dissapearing and Cal looking up into Sarlen's eyes, which were radiating a great natural power, lightning crackling around them. 

“Everything in this universe is connected.” Sarlen spoke but not audibly, he was using the bond created by their joint magic. “Understand that, and know that it is everywhere, that it will always be there.”

Cal closed his eyes and focused, feeling that Sarlen spoke the truth, taking comfort in that knowledge. Then flashes of memories started invading his mind, moments in a life that wasn't his own. Sarlen allowed him a window into his life and Cal stepped through, seeing a family, and then a prison. A desperate feeling took hold until a king appeared, the brightest light that he had ever seen blinded him before he saw the faces of Mor and Rhys, young and carefree, a new hope. And that hope crumbled again when the light was blotted out by shadow, the grin that Cal knew so well, Rhysand betraying them. And then the bond broke, Sarlen pulling his hands back.   
“You know the rest.” he said, Cal noticing he was shaking.   
“W-what even-” Cal struggled to speak, overwhelmed by the experience. Sarlen laid his hands on Cal's arms, smiling comfortingly, the smile turning into a mischieveous grin.   
“Let it all sink in before you say something stupid.” 

Cal couldn't help the snort and the cackle that left his mouth, his hands slapping Sarlen's away.   
“You're a very mean person.” Cal said, still giggling as he sat down and had a good sip of wine.   
“Cal- are you aware I saw everything in your mind then as well?” Sarlen returned to a serious demeanor. “When you stepped through the window I offered, you willingly showed me everything as well.”  
“Everything?” Cal said, a little alarmed.   
“Everything.” Sarlen nodded.   
“No I wasn't aware.” Cal said. “But it's okay. I guess my subconscious trusts you.”  
“What did I miss?” Mor asked Sarlen, curiously. “I know there's things he hasn't told me.”  
“For good reason.” Sarlen smiled. “I had suspicions, of course, but this- it was harrowing.”   
“I'm sorry.” Cal apologized, though he didn't really know what for.  
“Don't be. I'm glad you trusted me enough to show it all.” Sarlen smiled. 

“What did you want to show us?” Mor asked, changing subject when she noticed Cal became more quiet. Sarlen and he were both quiet, he realized, after seeing what they had. Cal absent mindedly took out the shard, giving it to Sarlen.   
“I saw this in your memories. I think I know how they captured your brother's soul with it.” Sarlen said. “I don't know if you want to hear it though.”  
“Hit me with it.” Cal said. “After all that? I can handle it.”  
“The extraction was done while he was still alive.” Sarlen said. “After death, a soul becomes less..tangible. They stop having coherent thoughts, unlike your brother.”   
“Is he talking to you?” Cal asked.  
“Yes, quite vividly.” Sarlen grinned. Mor looked at the shard and held out her hand in curiousity. Sarlen gave it to her after a little nod from Cal, Mor examining it curiously.   
“I'm relieved to hear he was already dead when they -” Cal had planned on saying it out loud, but hesitated, feeling a little sick when he thought about it. And having to say it brought it all back.   
“I know.” Sarlen said, comforting. His hand found Cal's knee and squeezed it. “You don't have to say it.”

Mor suddenly snorted, holding back laughter as she gave Cal back the shard.   
“He tried to hit on me.” she giggled, taking Cal's mind off the memories. He frowned, almost seeing how Fred would've grinned apologetically.  
“Even in death, you embarrass my friends.” Cal rolled his eyes and tucked the shard away in his chest's pocket. “I'm sorry.”  
“Don't be. So what do you intend to do next?” Mor asked, interested. “Do you want to find a way to release his soul? Destroy the shard?”  
“Initially we set out to destroy it, but we have since learned this is a piece of a rather powerful artifact, so it will not be easy to break.” Cal explained. “Are you familiar with the crown of horns?”  
“Yes, I've read of it.” Mor nodded. “The crown was made by the best Dwarven smiths and enchanted to never break. Obviously when someone broke that enchantment and shattered it, this piece was lost and found it's way to you. It's almost like- fate, or something.”  
“You think?” Cal asked, surprised.   
“Well the crown is an evil artifact, but you're literally the opposite of evil.” Mor said. “That doesn't mean it isn't dangerous, but at least it means the crown isn't complete and being used.” Mor explained. “I think you should hold on to the shard. Protect it. And if it does threaten to overpower you, find a way to destroy it. If they shattered the crown once, there must be a way to make one single piece of it dissapear.”   
“Morianna is correct, actually. It'll be safer with you than with anyone else, mainly because Fred is also in there and I think that's why it's attuned to you as well.” Sarlen agreed. “Plus, I'll be teaching you ways to stay in control of your magic.”  
“I'll have a think about it. Thank you for your insight, both of you.” Cal smiled.   
“I just said it so you wouldn't leave.” Mor admitted. “You're like my little brother. You can't leave me! Not yet!” she fake wailed, falling into his arms. Cal laughed and patted her back.  
“I'm not leaving yet, I promise.” 

After that heavy conversation, they made light the rest of the evening, Cal returning to his room with a nagging pain in his jaw from laughing so much. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, the happenings of the day had tired his mind and it desperately needed some rest. 

He woke to a strange noise that was closer than he liked, and a feeling in his chest that seemed to tug on the strings deep down, a panic. Fred, Cal realized. He veered upright, but before he could do anything else, a hand wrapped around his neck and threw him back on the bed. Cal stared into a pair of silver eyes, almost as silver as the blade that pointed at him. The assailant was sitting on top of him, straddling him so he couldn't go anywhere, the hand on his neck held him tightly in place and the eyes like steel stared at him in- surprise?   
Cal didn't stop to wonder, he extended his hand and with fingers that glowed red hot with fire, he grabbed the assassin's wrist, burning into the armour and then the skin, the assassin growling in pain, jumping back in a reflex and dropping his dagger. Cal took the chance to jump up after him, readying himself for a battle. But the assassin shook his head, hiding in the corner of the room. 

“You're-” a young male's voice emerged from behind the mask the assassin was wearing. “You're Drow.” the surprise and pain in his voice was tangible, the assassin putting away his blade.   
“What do you want?” Cal asked, cautiously.   
“They- Oh by the gods.” the assassin hissed in annoyance. “Why did they sent me? Why? They probably knew! They had to know!”  
“I'm- sorry?” Cal tried, the assassin turning around and taking out his blade.   
“No. You don't know the half of it. I have to kill you, I have to.” the assassin tried to sound determined but Cal was hardly impressed.   
“Cute.” he smirked. “Well they obviously didn't send their best or I'd be dead already.”   
“You might want to tone it down a bit, I've still got the drop on you.” the assassin warned, his other blade twirling in his hand. Cal frowned, clapping his hands and all the doors and windows shut in a second, the sound startling the assassin. 

“Are you sure about that?” Cal asked, deliberately cocky. “Because the way I see it, I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me.”   
The assassin wanted to charge in a last attempt to complete his mission, but yelped when his dagger became too hot to hold, Cal melting it with a mere snap of his fingers. The light of the red hot weapon illuminated the assassin's face and showed it's colour, an ashy white, much lighter than Cal's, but unmistakable. Another Drow. 

The first one Cal had ever seen since fleeing topside. He was just as surprised as the assassin had been. The assassin looked at him with a hint of fear, eyes darting for an escape route.   
“Who sent you?” Cal asked, overcoming his surprise.  
“Someone in the council. I don't know their name. It's not my job to ask.” the assassin answered.  
“Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?” Cal wondered out loud.  
“Y-you're the first Drow I've ever met. I grew up topside with my foster parents. They always tell stories, that they're vile and evil and that I was lucky to never have been in the underdark. I've always wondered if it was true. But you're- you're a Drow at court. And in the archmage's quarters.” the assassin said, now more curious than anything else. Cal had the assassin in a corner against the wardrobe, approaching carefully, the fear returning to the other Drow's eyes.  
“Please don't kill me.” he begged, shielding his body with his arms, as if that would do anything against Cal's spells. 

“What else should I do?” Cal asked, guarded.   
“I'll leave if you let me go. I will never come back, I promise.” the assassin said, frantically. “They can stuff their money somewhere deep. I won't kill you.”  
“What's your name?” Cal asked.   
“Cyeros, but friends call me Cye.” the assassin replied, taking off his mask and hood so Cal could look at him properly. Short, messy white hair fell out of the hood and over Cye's forehead. His face looked strong like marble, the eyes so bright white they seemed to radiate light all by themselves. Cye looked nervous when Cal came closer, even if he'd let the magic wane from his hands.   
“You're young for an assassin.” Cal noted, looking at Cye's face.   
“I'm 70.” Cye said, quickly. The same age as Cal. Did he look this young to others?   
“And I'm not really an assassin, just a rogue in need of money. I've never killed anyone before in my life.” Cye confessed.   
“How did you get in here?” Cal asked.  
“Climbed up the vines to your balcony. The door wasn't even locked.” Cye grinned cockily. 

“Well this is awkward.” Cal mumbled. “I don't quite know what to do with you.”  
“Let me go?” Cye suggested with a cheeky grin. Cal couldn't help but smirk. He liked a little cheek.   
“I might. Can you tell me anything else about the person who hired you?” he asked.   
“No I- I doubt it was them in person that gave me the letter. But I have the letter here, if that helps.” Cye rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment, handing it to Cal, who read it with interest, but had no idea who's handwriting it was. Perhaps Mor would know.

“Will you let me go now?” Cye asked.   
Cal pondered his options. He could call the guard to lock Cye away and let him stand trial, but honestly, he was excited at meeting another Drow, and besides, it would be a waste of such a handsome man.   
“Only if you promise to come back sometime.” Cal eventually grinned, Cye looking at him with surprise.   
“What? Y-you'd invite an assassin back to your room?” Cye asked, confused.  
“You just said you're not an assassin.” Cal frowned. “What's the truth?”  
“No, I'm not! You're right. I just- I did come here to kill you initially, for money.” Cye said, gesturing at the parchment.   
“Honestly? For this much money, I'd kill myself.” Cal joked, Cye laughing heartily.   
“You're so nice. I- I never thought other Drow would be like this.” Cye admitted.   
“And I've never met another Drow since I escaped the Underdark.” Cal said. “It seems we'd have a lot to talk about.”  
“Yes. Yes, I think I'd like that.” Cye said, smiling strangely. “Tomorrow, eight o'clock, same place?”  
“Yes, I think that will work just fine.” Cal smiled, opening the doors of the balcony for him. “I'll look forward to seeing you again.”  
“You know- you're not what I expected.” Cye said, walking over to the balcony. “Not in the slightest. I mean, I expected a mean, ugly old human. Instead I found you, one of my own people! And you're super friendly and handso-” Cye ceased in his enthusiastic speaking but Cal could fill in the blanks by himself perfectly. Before he could respond Cye jumped off the balcony and dissapeared from view, Cal stifling a laugh when he heard a thud on the floor, followed by a little swear of pain. 

This had easily been the weirdest night of his life.


	9. 9

Cal didn't tell anyone about Cye that following day, thinking it best not to alarm anyone just yet. He had to go about this carefully, not arise any suspicion among the council members. He watched for any strange looks thrown at him during the council meeting, a look that might have given away a conspiracy of some sort, but everything appeared to be normal. No one was overly hostile and if they did shoot him looks, he didn't see them. 

He retired early that evening, telling Mor he was tired and going straight to bed rather than hanging around with her and Sarlen. He had a lenghty bath, dressed up nicely and then ordered in dinner to his room, setting up a table on the balcony. It was a lovely summer's eve, warm and gentle as the fireflies danced around the gardens. When he lit the floating candles with his magic, Cal stopped a second to consider how strange it all was. Cye had tried to kill him and Cal's first instinct had been to invite him back over? Maybe he was trying to commit suicide in an elaborate way after all. 

He didn't get any more time to consider if this was a dumb idea, because the rustling of vines announced Cye's arrival, two featherlight footsteps landing on the balcony.   
“Wow.” Cye said, impressed at the setup. “Expecting someone?” he smiled and Cal felt a strange little tingle in his chest at the sight. He returned the smile and gestured towards the table.   
“Care for a spot of dinner?”  
“Oh yeah, I'm starving!” Cye said, rubbing his hands. “Thank you.”  
“No need to thank me.” Cal said, taking the other chair and crossing his legs. “I'm rather surprised you showed up at all.”  
“I was considering not going.” Cye said. “But my curiousity got the better of me.”  
“So you really grew up here? On the surface?” Cal asked, intrigued.   
“Yeah, I was raised by my family, they own some farmland just outside the city. They said they found me as a baby and took it as a sign from the gods.” Cye shrugged. “My mom can't have kids, you see, so she was happy raising me, even if I was a Drow. But no, I've never been down in the Underdark, at least not consciously.”   
“How unique.” Cal said. “And people on the surface just accept you?”  
“Mostly. They know who I am in this city, where I'm from and who my family are. Most of them know the story.” Cye nodded. “Though they tend to be scared of my eyes.”  
“Why?” Cal frowned, Cye leaning forward to show Cal his eyes in full. Cal had noticed their striking white colour the night before, but he hadn't noticed the dark sclera surrounding them, making the irisses appear like a swirling storm in the midst of darkness. 

“I see how that might catch attention.” Cal said, Cye sitting back on the chair again and starting to eat. Cal watched quietly, also eating but his eyes on Cye, observing and deducting. Cye wasn't carrying any weapons, at least none he could see, and the clothes, although they looked cheaply made, were nice and he could tell Cye had put some effort into his appearance tonight. Cye had thin hands that Cal recognized, his hands had looked the same not too long ago. Malnourishment? He snuck in a few glances at Cye's body, but the shirt was so wide it hid his overall shape. Cye was eating like his life depended on it, hardly thinking of table manners. 

“So uhm-” Cye said, swallowing some food and wiping his mouth. “I know compared to you I look like I live in a dumpster. I see you're looking at these clothes and like, you're right they're crap, but my family doesn't make a lot of money, and there's the tax on our crops and like, we barely have enough money to buy food, let alone new clothes, so I look like a vagrant.”  
“I never said that.” Cal said. “I know what it feels like. In the Underdark I never ate more than moss and mushrooms. We had to make our own clothes from fabric others didn't want. I would never, ever, judge you by your appearance and apparel.”   
“He said with his perfect hair and manicure.” Cye said, but his tone was full of teasing sarcasm, making Cal laugh.   
“Point taken.” Cal admitted. “It's not been so long since I've started to look better though. Maybe two months now? Mor's had to thoroughly educate me on elven fashion.”  
“Mor? The Queen?” Cye gasped. “You're friends with the Queen?”  
“Yeah, she's the reason I'm still alive. I've been part of her personal advisors council for a couple of months now, after we overthrew Rhysand.” Cal said.  
“Is it true you were with Rhysand before that? People talk but I had trouble believing it.” Cye said, curiously. Cal shifted uncomfortably.   
“Yeah, it's true. He found me in possession of the artifact he needed to stage the coupe, but didn't kill me because I had just escaped from the Underdark and was completely naïve and gullible. I never questioned anything, I just went with it, happy to be lead and taken care of in a world that I didn't know.” Cal sighed. Cye's face was sympathetic.   
“He sounds like an asshole.” Cye stated it so matter of factly that Cal had to stifle a laugh.   
“He was.” he confirmed with a giggle. “Nobody came to his funeral except me and his sister.”  
“And he didn't even deserve that.” Cye said. “But at least he brought you here, right?”  
“Yeah, about the only good thing he's ever done.” Cal agreed. “Or I would never have been almost killed by you!” 

Cye grinned with an appropiate sense of guilt. “Sorry about that. I just- I really needed money. They took 75% of our harvest, 20% of it was rotten due to the rains and the last 5% is what is feeding us now. We won't make it through the winter without some extra cash.” Cye sighed, troubled.   
“75%?” Cal frowned. “Why that much?”  
“To feed the city.” Cye shrugged. “I don't know, I think a lot of it is just sold to a third party.”  
“I'll bring it up with the council.” Cal said. “This can't possibly be right.”  
“Don't get yourself in trouble over it.” Cye said. “This city is very set in it's ways. Even with the Queen to back you up, I doubt you could change things.”  
“I can't imagine Mor would abide this sort of thing if she knew about it. Plus I never really liked the agricultural minister anyways, don't worry about me.” Cal said, taking a sip of wine. “I can take care of myself these days.”  
“So I experienced all too closely yesterday. I still have a burn where you grabbed my wrist.” Cye bared his wrist, Cal seeing a hand shaped red spot on it.   
“I'm sorry.” Cal mumbled, feeling a pang of guilt.  
“Oh I don't hold it against you. I was kind of holding a knife to your throat at the time.” Cye grinned with a shrug. “It'll heal. It's not very severe.”  
“Still-” Cal said, instinctively reaching out for Cye's wrist, taking it and feeling the heat radiating off of it. He applied a gentle chill to it, Cye's expression changing from bashful to relieved.  
“Ohh yeah that's nice.” he muttered, turning to goo at Cal's touch. “Thank you.”  
“It's the least I could do after you spared my life.” Cal said with a gentle smile. He let go of Cye's wrist, Cye smiling back.  
“Don't be like that. You could've obliterated me if you cared to. It's like you said, I was trapped in there with you.”   
“Killing you would've been a waste.” Cal smirked and leaned closer. “Such a handsome young man? I wouldn't want to be responsible for that.” he wondered where his own confidence came from. Perhaps because he had grown so much over the past few months, and was starting to feel comfortable with who he really was. 

Cye's eyes grew wide in shock, then cast their glance down while a bright blush appeared on his cheeks. He muttered something unintelligible, Cal chuckling while he moved away. Perhaps he'd been a bit too on the nose, and he didn't want to make Cye uncomfortable. 

A rustle of the tablecloth and one of the wineglasses fell over when Cye made his move, a weight suddenly on Cal's lap as Cye scooted forward, so fast Cal didn't quite know how it happened. But there he was, legs straddling his, though in a very different way to last night. Cye's hands were on Cal's shoulders, the two looking eachother in the eye.   
“This is crazy.” Cye said, slightly breathless. Cal noticed that he was shaking, looking up into Cye's wonderful eyes.   
“Are you okay?” he asked, quietly.   
“Yeah. I mean, this whole thing is just- it's so strange.” Cye said, laughing. “I had a contract to kill you. And now I'm here, I don't- I just don't know. I'm confused.” he admitted. “You make me feel all these things and I just don't know how to deal with it.”  
“Me too.” Cal confessed. “I'm relieved to find someone else like me, I guess.”  
“Yeah, me too.” Cye said. “I want to know you better. But also I have this primal urge to rip off all my clothes and throw myself at you.”  
Cal did his best to stop the laugh, but he couldn't hide his grin so well.   
“Don't laugh at me.” Cye pushed against his shoulders teasingly. “They told me all Drow looked monstrous and I'm delighted to find out they were wrong, that is all.”  
“Was that a compliment?” Cal grinned cockily, pulling Cye closer.   
“Maybe.” Cye chuckled. “You don't have to sound so pleased with yourself.”  
“Make me shut up then.” Cal teased, his fingers, fondling the collar of Cye's shirt. Cye caught on, leaning in without hesitation and hooking his lips into Cal's so smoothly it was like they were made to fit there. 

Cal wasn't surprised for long, pressing Cye closer, feeling his fingers stroke through his hair. Cal wanted to deepen the kiss but Cye froze and hesitated, pulling his mouth back and gasping.  
“No!” he shoved back suddenly, face red and hand covering his lips. He looked completely confused, sitting back on his own chair with a sigh.   
“S-sorry. I'm just- It's all going so fast.” Cye admitted, looking embarassed.   
“It's okay.” Cal said. “You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have challenged you like I did.”  
“No, you were reading me right. I wanted to kiss you.” Cye said, bluntly. “It's just all going so fast, I need some time to catch up.”  
“Then how about we finish our dinner and talk some more instead?” Cal suggested with a gentle smile. Cye looked grateful, nodding.  
“Yes, I think I'd like that.”

They talked the rest of the night, nothing physical occuring and Cal toned down the flirting, visibly putting Cye more at ease. By the end of the night, neither really knew how late it was, but they were getting tired and cold.   
“We should finish up, get inside at least.” Cal shivered, his hands cold to his arms as he rubbed them to get warm. “Do you want to stay here? Or are you heading home?”  
“Is there a space for me here?” Cye asked, apprehensive.   
“There's a very spacious double bed. I promise not to try anything inappropiate.” Cal gestured towards the bed. Cye considered for a moment and Cal cleared out the dinner table with a few simple gestures. 

“Alright.” he nodded. “Nothing funny, you promise?” Cye said with a look at Cal.   
“I'd swear on my honour as a Drow but I'm not sure how much that means.” Cal shrugged.   
“Okay. I trust you.” Cye said, following Cal inside the room. “Even though you could probably kill me by just looking at me."   
“Wait, that's what's bothering you?” Cal said, surprised.   
“Yeah, kind of.” Cye admitted. “I'm not familiar with magic at all. My family's not magic, and neither am I. I have no siblings so no magic there, it's just something I don't understand very well.”   
“How interesting.” Cal mumbled. “I've always had magic, I never really considered what life would be like without it.”

“How would you describe magic?” Cye asked, curiously.  
“I would describe it as something living, not sentient but it is in all things, connecting the world around us. And some people are born with the ability to see it and use it, while others aren't. But for those that can, it's almost like a lifeblood. It's vibrant, it fills you with a core of something ancient and powerful.” Cal did his best to describe it as how he experienced it.   
“That sounds amazing.” Cye said, listening with interest. “Perhaps that's why it just feels overwhelming to be close to you. You radiate this- silent but deadly kind of power.”  
“Wait till you see me in the morning.” Cal joked, Cye producing a noise that was a snort and a chuckle folded into one.   
“I doubt it's as bad as you make it out to be. I've never met a more poised, elegant creature.” Cye said, the trill in his voice sending a shiver up Cal's spine.   
“You made me promise not to do anything funny and then you go and say things like that?” Cal frowned accusingly, Cye grinning, fully aware of his guilt. 

They settled into bed, Cal careful with seeking physical contact, but Cye was quite eager to cuddle up, Cal for the first time physically reminded of his experiences with Rhysand. Contemplating those, his fingers automatically found Cye's hair and started playing with it. While Cal tried to name the colour of Cye's hair (he thought it was nearly as radiant as moonlight, but felt warmer) Cye purred softly and closed his eyes, cheek on Cal's shoulder. This was different, Cal knew, but the experiences of the past haunted him regardless.   
“I'm not like him, you know.” Cye said quietly.   
“What, you a mind reader now?” Cal chuckled.  
“I can feel you're tense.” Cye said with his lovely wispy voice. “You've been through a lot. But you're not at fault for his betrayal.”  
“Thank you.” Cal smiled and placed the smallest kiss on Cye's forehead.   
“Rhysand was a fool of a man. He had no idea what he was throwing away.” Cye's piercing eyes were focused on his hands as they ran over Cal's chest and arms, his fingers cold to the touch.   
“I have a feeling he knew very well what he thought he was throwing away. He just underestimated it.” Cal smiled, feeling proud when he realised he believed his own words.   
“That he did.” Cye smiled, and he pulled Cal down for a careful, shallow kiss.


End file.
